


Ache

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Betrayal, Character Death, Dark Draco Malfoy, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Imprisonment, M/M, Master/Slave, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Prisoner of War, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood, Secret Organizations, Slow Build, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When the War ends, Hermione finds herself isolated and caught in an impossible situation; she is to be kept and used by Voldemort's right hand until she can be cracked.Only she contains the secrets of the Resistance, but they are lost in the confines of her mind.She always understood that war came with a price and that sacrifice was inevitable, but how much will she have to give up until there's nothing left?Partly canon compliant, partly au





	1. Blood and tears

**Author's Note:**

> Warning to viewers: There are ongoing themes of sexual assault and references to torture. Viewer discretion is advised. 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters - all belong to J.K Rowling (obvs)  
> Lots of inspiration from the Handmaid's tale! 
> 
> This story kind of diverges from around the end of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

Hermione struggled to open her eyes to see her surroundings, a layer of tears and blood crusted her eyelids shut.

A sharp twang of pain shot through her head as she pushed herself up off the floor onto her stiff forearms.

Groggily, she reached a sore hand up to her head to assess the damage. She let out a sharp hiss of pain as she touched the deep cut on her forehead, identifying the source of blood that caked her hair and face.

Wiping the grime from her face with the edge of her sleeve, Hermione blearily explored her surroundings. Judging from the heavy darkness and damp air, she guessed she was deep underground, possibly a dungeon of some sort. The darkness of her cell was so dense, she could only just see a faint outline of her hands in front of her. She instinctively reached for her wand to help her see, but felt her stomach drop as she felt its absence. Stifling a panicked sob, Hermione harshly dragged herself to a corner of her cell. Roughly, she grabbed the cobbled stonewall with her fingertips in effort to pull herself up so she could stand.

She breathed sharply with effort and was almost fully upright when she felt a throb of pain coming from her leg. Blindly reaching for it, she felt her cut flesh, the blood soaking through her tattered jeans. Hermione, screwed her eyes shut, taking deep breaths as she tried to force herself to calm down.  _Panicking is not going to help you_  she thought to herself.

After a few tense moments, she finally urged herself to continue exploring the confines of her cell.

Hermione took a few tentative steps with one hand dragging against the wall and one blindly in front of her. But only after a few meters (she estimated, 3) she felt the corner of the wall as it turned sharply left. Shuffling her feet another 2 meters, her hands met the next wall. After exploring every inch of the cell with her raw fingertips, she had hoped to come across the edge of the door, but only finding the same cobbled wall pressing in all around her.

She was truly trapped. No doors. Not even a bed to lie down in. Just a narrow window high up by the ceiling.

Hermione wondered if she had died. If this was her hell. She tried to dismiss the haunting thoughts quickly, telling herself not to get trapped in a cycle of fear. But with barely anything to occupy herself with, it was difficult to keep her haunting thoughts at bay. 

As time passed and she could no longer amuse herself with questions involving hell or purgatory, she began attempting wandless magic. Occasionally a spark would burst from her hands when she was particularly emotional, but it was never anything substantial. Sometimes she would pace around the room, or climb against the stone wall to look at the equally dark and empty hallway outside her cell. 

When she finally heard a noise that was not her own mangled breathing, it was deafening.

There was a clang and scrape of a metal door. 

Wincing as the scraping of the door pierced her ears. Light filtered in from the top of her cell. She could make out a hallway outside her cell and figures moving quickly.

“Move!”, she heard a harsh voice bark, accompanied by the scuffling of feet and the sound of what only could be someone being dragged.

The man muttered under his breath and she heard stone slabs moving apart.

Hermione edged closer to the small window of her cell, her fingers weakly scrabbling onto the tiny ledge to get a better look at the commotion outside.

There were two hooded figures, one was roughly grabbing a third, smaller figure and throwing them into a similar cell to hers. Hermione held her breath as she desperately tried to see the face of the third person.

“ You shouldn’t have talked back” The man sneered, grabbing the front of the figures robes.

The figure paused, until they suddenly leaned forward and spat at their face.

The man hissed, jerking his head back to wipe his face. He whipped his head back round furiously, jabbing his wand at her chest. “ _Crucio!_ ”

She let out a horrible scream, writhing on the ground.

After an eternity, her screaming stopped. Instead turning into small whimpers as she shuddered on the floor.

The cobble stone wall of her cell retreated, shutting with a harsh grating noise and the two figures left. Hermione shifted back down from the small window. The familiar darkness enveloping her again.

But the usual unbearable silence was broken by small, stifled sobs. Hermione felt a pang in her chest, wanting to reach over to whoever this was.

“Hello?”, Hermione tentatively croaked.

She was shocked to hear her voice, it sounded raspy from lack of use. The sobbing stopped.

“Hermione?”

A pause.

“Angelina?”, Hermione’s voice cracked. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and for the first time she felt a small glimmer of happiness surge up.

“I-I can’t believe it, we all thought you died at the third battle. You’ve been gone for so long” Angelina breathed.

“What happened?” Hermione whispered, tears now sliding down her face.

There was a pause. Hermione felt dread pool in her stomach. She already knew the answer.

“Most of us are dead. I-I don’t know who’s left.” Angelina’s voice trailed off.

They lapsed into silence again.

The small glimmer of happiness Hermione had felt was now gone.

“How long has it been since I’ve gone?” Hermione said in the steadiest voice she could manage.

“A year.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. How much had happened since? It didn't seem to add up, it had felt she had only been in this cell for a few days at most. Angelina seemed to have guessed her confusion, speaking louder to catch Hermione up on the latest news. 

“The war effort started to fall apart. People were captured and enslaved. Professor Lupin, Arthur, Molly, McGonagal, Ron, so many died trying to fight back.”Angelina’s voice broke. She drew a sharp intake of breath and continued, “After the war was over, we all thought we would be killed, but they’re keeping us here for something - they do...tests and  _torture_  us...” Angelina’s voice dropped to a whisper. Hermione felt herself grow pale. “I was sent here because I misbehaved...usually people sent to the cells don’t come back”

Hermione felt herself shake. _How? This wasn’t meant to happen._  She drew her knees up to her chest, her nails digging into her scalp as she tried to stop herself from screaming in exasperation.

She desperately tried to think back to how she got here. Racking her brain for any scrap of information that could help her get out and help the Order. Only foggy memories remained. She scrunched her eyes shut, struggling to recall it.

 

_It was after the second battle. Their ranks had retreated._

_She was kneeling on the floor, back resting on the wall. Her hands trembled as she wiped the dirt and sweat off her forehead, clenching her wand tightly. There was blood on her hands. It wasn’t hers._

_There were bodies laid out around the hall. Some were groaning faintly, people flitting around, checking wounds._

_Ron was standing by Hermione, leaning against the wall. He deeply inhaled as he breathed the smoke from his cigarette. Hermione hated his habit, but Ron insisted that wizard cigarettes were different to muggle cigarettes._

_“I don't know how much more fighting we can manage ”, Ron said, sliding down the wall to sit next to her while extinguishing his cigarette on the floor._

_“I think after the first time, everyone thought it would be over... but now that it has started again - I just think that it's taken a toll that was a lot greater than we had thought.” She sighed in a small voice, unsure._

_“I’m just tired... None of our efforts seem to lead anywhere” Turning to look at Ron, she exhaled. His expression was worn, drained, and sad. He placed his hand on Hermione’s knee, tracing the skin that peaked through her jeans. " I just wish we hadn't had our lives taken from us already, I wish we were just given the option to walk away before it all started."_

_"would you really have walked away? Hypothetically, if there was someone just as capable to replace you, would you be ok with leaving?" Hermione said wistfully. Looking down at Ron's heavily freckled hand on her knee._

_" I-I... I just wanted to have that option." he said, resigned._

_The unbearable urge to pull him close to her rose up in her chest, her hands instead coming to rest in her lap. There was a deep gash running down from his cheek to his chin. His face looked thin, he didn't look like the hopeful boy she once new from Hogwarts anymore. There was a brief, shining moment in time when she and Ron  were hopeful for the future. To settle down, possibly have kids, a home. But Ron was right, that option was taken from them. She took a deep, shaky breath._

_“Look here,” she said, gently turning his face to her. Murmuring under her breath and flicking her wand quickly to close the wound. “There.” Hermione looked back up at Ron, her hand wavering on his cheek._

_He smiled weakly at her,  “Thanks, Mione.”_

 

Hermione blinked. It had felt so long ago, everything past that moment was faded and murky.

Hermione and Angelina tried to keep talking to each other to pass the time, but their topics often felt too depressing. Over time, they stopped talking, only occasionally asking the other if they were still awake.

The Gryffindors that once valued courage, bravery, and friendship had gone.

Hermione was woken up abruptly by the sound of Angelina hissing sharply to get her attention. Fumbling around in the dim light of her cell, she sat up quickly.

“Hermione! Hermione, get up! I heard people outside!”

Angelina was cut off suddenly, the metal door to the dungeon clanging open.

“Get the mudblood, leave the other one” an eerily familiar voice snapped.

Hermione had to squint as an outline of a door began to glow as the stone shifted to open up. She stumbled back into the corner, pressing her body as close as she could to the wall as the room flooded with light. 

Two Death Eaters stood in the doorway, the frames silhouetted against the light of the torch. 

Hermione gasped from the sudden rush of noise, light and movement that overloaded her senses. She jerked her arms sharply from their grip, trying vainly get her bearings so that she could defend herself. 

“ Oh, for fucks sake! She doesn’t even have a wand!” Hermione now recognised with growing horror that the voice from earlier was Graham Montague. “ _Immobulus!_ ”

Hermione’s body stiffened. Her legs snapping together as the spell took effect. 

“Bring her to the interrogation room, the Dark Lord requires it.”

Her eyes darted rapidly to get a look at her surroundings. Her heart began to beat faster at the mention of Voldemort, _what does he want?_   

Suddenly, her eyes met with those of Montague's. He looked down at her, his expression hard. Hermione felt helpless, unable to move, trying to summon any ounce of magic that could help her. She could feel a few feeble sparks fly from the end of her fingertips, but from a year of no use, the magic vanished quickly. Montague appeared to have taken no notice at her sad attempt at magic, and after a few tense moments, Montague stepped back, nodding curtly at the other death eaters. 

"stun her" 

There were only of a few seconds of registration before Hermione could brace herself for the oncoming stunners. 

Before she new it, she had re awoken on cool, hard stone. Movement had come back to her body, but she was held down by an invisible force. She winced, feeling as if she we being pinned down by huge hands on her head and limbs. 

The hall she was in was dark and eery. Similar to her cell, but it was distinctly more humid, having an almost putrid smell to it. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see someone standing just to the side of her. They were speaking nervously and crouched awkwardly, almost as if they also had an invisible hand pressing down on them. 

"M-My Lord, we have been using every method we know of, but all a-attempts have been unsuccessful. The boy has been unresponsive to all attempts of legilimency, a-a-and I don't think we can access any more memories through torture before he g-goes i-insane" Hermione, strained against her restraints, turning her head only a fraction to the right to get a clearer view of the man.

He was short, his sallow face was contorted into an expression of extreme fear as he stammered out his report. "The results h-have been the s-ssame with the other Order and DA  m-m-members as well"   

"I see." Voldemort's cold, high voice emanated somewhere behind her head. He sounded impatient, Hermione could feel his anger coming off him in waves. "Bring the boy in, let us see if the mudblood will tell us" 

The was a sound of robes swishing, and sharp footsteps. The sound of grunting and struggling slowly grew as they approached the table. 

"I won't tell you! Fuck you!" Hermione's heart lurched as she realised who the boy was. 

"Well, Neville, I'm sure you'll have a change of heart if we hurt your dear friend here." Voldemort's apathetic, calculating voice rang throughout the hall. He stepped over and stood by Hermione's head, yanking her upright with a wave of his hand as if she were a doll. Hermione let out a sharp exhale of pain as she felt as if there were a metal clamp holding her tightly in place. 

"Hermione! You're alive!" 

She let out a gasp of horror as she made eye contact with Neville. He was kneeling on the ground with one death eater on either side of him, his face was disfigured to the point where he was almost unrecognisable. His arms were restricted behind him, forcing him to lean down and raise his head painfully to look up. 

Voldemort snapped his head round to look at Hermione, his expression was unreadable; a mixture of contempt and anticipation. He seized her face with his bony hand, forcing her head forward to stare at Neville. 

"I was informed that you and Neville share a long history" 

Hermione struggled in his grasp. Her eyes darting back and forth between him and Neville. 

"I'm _sure_ you would hate to see him go, especially since there are so _few_ of you left now a days" He said, his grip tightening. 

Neville widened his eyes at Hermione, trying to get her attention. Hermione glanced back at Neville, he glared intently at her, clenching his jaw as his shook his head stiffly at her. Neville seemed as if he wanted to say something to her but was unable to. 

Voldemort jerked his head at the stammering man next to her. He rushed forward and waved his wand at Neville and Hermione, a projection of both their brains appearing a meter in front of him. Hermione squinted at the projections, they were glowing brightly, flashing different colours as their thoughts ran. There were small areas of his brain that were covered by straight, flat, darkly coloured blocks. Hermione glanced at her own projection, even larger parts were blocked off. Hermione guessed that this was what was blocking Voldemort from accessing some of Neville's memories. 

Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, something familiar stirred when she looked at the barriers. But whatever it was, lay just beyond her reach. 

"a-as soon as we began the interrogating the b-b-boy, these - these barriers sprang up. They are blocking th-the same areas as the other O-Order members, and as you can see, the girl's mind has stronger barriers, concealing her memories from even h-herself." 

Voldemort looked shrewdly at Hermione, his chin raised as he stared down at her. 

"Recent information has made me guess that you have been the mastermind behind the Orders defences. I assume that breaking yours will allow us to access to these secrets. But, I wonder, what exactly are you hiding? The War is over and everyone you know is captured or dead, there should be nothing left to hide"

"I- I -Don't-" Hermione gasped out, the invisible hold growing tighter against her chest. "I- don't- Know" 

Voldemort's eyes sparked with concealed anger and frustration, his jaw clenched.

"I do not like secrets being kept from me." 

His piercing gaze bore into her mind. Hermione had never experienced ligilimency and this was nothing like she imagined. He pierced into her head, first sifting through her most recent thoughts and memories and then exploring the earlier years of the War. She was 19 and naive. She had never seen so many bodies. She relived the terror and despair of the overwhelming amounts of deaths. Tortured screaming echoed as her head throbbed. She faintly registered that those screams were her own. She felt her body seize and convulse violently as Voldemort probed deeper. 

He began blindly going through memories, obviously unsure of what he was searching for, ripping through them with shear strength. Only when her memories abruptly stopped did he falter, pausing for only a second before he attempted to tear through the barrier. The sharp pain piercing throughout her entire body grew, her screams growing more and more hoarse. 

As the pain continued on relentlessly for what felt like forever, her skull felt as if it might crack from the pressure. And then suddenly, it stopped as quickly as it had began. 

Hermione fell back onto the table, her mind reeling as she still shook violently. She let out tiny whimpers of pain as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyelids fluttered open and closed while Hermione tried desperately to stay conscious. 

Voldemort looked down at Hermione, disgusted, his neck rolling against his hand. 

"If you won't tell us Order secrets, I guess we will have to use other methods" He hissed. Drawing out his wand from his robes, he turned to look at Neville. 

Neville raised his head high to meet with Voldemort, his eyes unwavering. 

" _Crucio!_ " 

Neville curled onto the ground, letting out a strained groan, his body shuddering against the floor. Voldemort's arm shook, his face twisted into an expression of delight at Neville's screams. 

" _Stop it! Stop it!!_ ", Hermione shrieked, straining against her constraints as she watched Neville writhe in the corner of her eye. 

"Tell me how to take down the occlumency barriers." Voldemort said forcefully, his wand still pointed at Neville. 

"I- I don't KNOW!" Her eyes were screwed up in concentration, she began to tear up. She felt so helpless "I - I really don't! _Stop it!_ " 

Neville's pained screams continued over her shouting, her answer clearly not satisfying Voldemort. She continued to struggle against her restraints, Neville's screams slowly quieting. Hermione stopped struggling, horrified as she stared at Neville. His body continued to shake and seize up, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. His screaming stopped. His eyes had glazed over, his eyelids fluttering slightly while Voldemort continued to perform the curse. 

"Oh no," Voldemort whispered, feigning remorse, "it seems like Neville really does follow in his parent's footsteps." 

" _No_ " A sob burst out of Hermione, feeling a surge of nausea rise up. Voldemort strode over to Neville's limp body, using the toe of his shoe to tilt Neville's face upward. She could see him breathing shallowly, but he was essentially dead. Hermione heard Voldemort mutter under his breath "useless".

Nodding to the death eaters, Neville's body was dragged away. Hermione continued to sob, her tears had now ran dry. She could tell that this was not the outcome Voldemort had wanted, his patience was beginning to run out. He let out a sharp exhale of air through his narrow nostrils. 

"Get Severus!" Voldemort snarled, a death eater hurriedly rushing out a door. 

Hermione rolled her head to the side, her eyes going out of focus as she blearily watched a figure sweep into the room. 

 

 

 


	2. undisturbed

Snape strode quickly into the hall. Stopping in front of Voldemort as he bent forward in a stiff, but respectful bow. 

"My Lord... How can I assist you?" Snape said attentively in his deep voice. His eyes flicked towards Hermione, before going back to Voldemort. 

"Ah, Severus, my faithful spy." said Voldemort, turning towards the long haired man. "The mudblood has proved to be quite a challenge."

Snape uttered a low noise of dissent through his nose, shaking back his dark hair to look at Hermione. 

"You remember her from your days in the Order. Somehow, there appears to barriers protecting the Order member's minds," said Voldemort softly, staring at Hermione with his pitiless red eyes. "... I can see her pathetic thoughts clearly from within her worthless mind, but it seems that even with potter out of the way, this feeble mudblood has still managed to thwart my plans..." 

Hermione stared at Snape, her anger threatening to bubble over while she thought about how Snape had betrayed them. 

"According to the healer, unlike the other Order members, her mind barriers were not generated after interrogation, but long before. Her memories are even sealed off from herself." the impatience in his tone grew as he spoke, "Perhaps you have some insight as to what she may be hiding."

Snape dipped his head in assent. 

"Of course, my Lord", he strode over to the table Hermione lay on, adjusting his sleeves away from his forearms. Hermione watched him, her head now clear with hatred for the man before her. Despite Hermione's obvious animosity towards Snape, he coolly looked down at her. Hermione was attempting vainly to lift her head against the magic restraints. He said nothing, taking a quick breath, nostrils flaring. She eyed him apprehensively, mentally bracing herself for the oncoming attack.   
  
" _Legilimens_!" 

Snape had struck before Hermione was ready, before she could gather the strength to summon any force of resistance: the image of him standing over began to swam in front of her eyes, flickering images of her memories vividly racing through her mind as she became blind to her surroundings... 

He ignored the memories of Hogwarts and early meetings with the Order. His mind probing deeper into hers, she felt her jaw grow rigid with pain, her arms tensing painfully. In comparison to Voldemort's attack, Snape seemed to know what he was looking for, searching for time gaps. Instead of the unbearable blinding white-hot pain, she felt a slow aching pain that felt as if it was rooted in her bones. 

Snape seemed particularly interested in her memories after Dumbledore had died, after he had betrayed the Order. He watched her memories of when she had felt abandoned by him, her grief. She could feel that he was slightly amused by these memories.

Hermione screamed out in pain, she momentarily regained her vision as she attempted to block Snape out of her mind. After a few moments, he forced himself in to her other memories: Healing, research, fighting, mourning, but his obvious annoyance with the mental barriers became apparent when his probing became more forceful. Hermione felt puzzled, the pain stopped, but she could still feel Snape in her mind. 

_Is there a plan in place?_

Hermione flinched suddenly, shocked by Snape's voice echoing in her skull. 

_What? What plan?_

He didn't reply. 

Finally, the hall had come back into view as Snape slowly withdrew from her mind. She felt as if she was going to throw up her entire stomach, her chest heaving from the painful experience. Regaining her breath, Hermione looked up at Snape, who had lowered his wand. He was staring contemptuously at Hermione, his lip curling. Yet, his expression of distaste seemed to be hiding deeper, more conflicted emotions. 

"Well?" said Voldemort, his spindly hands were gently tracing his neck. 

"From the memories I could access, they only included the Order meetings that I was present for and the later attacks. All of which is information that has already been revealed to us. If I were to force her mind to open up, it is likely that it would fall apart before any useful information would to present itself. However, any useful information would probably have been used to aid the resistance by now - it is likely that the barriers are concealing useless information, as the War is over and no new developments have occurred with the resistance." 

Snape chose to withhold the part about speaking to her from Voldemort. 

Hermione tried to process the information being fed to her. _What could I possibly be hiding? Could there still be hope for the resistance?_  She could only speculate for a few seconds longer when her attention was drawn back to Voldemort again. He was looking as impatient as before, his wand held aloft between his hands with a casual menace, almost as if he was tempted to torture her again. 

"Bring her to be examined. She will be monitored. Carefully. Until we can find another way to extract the information." He paused again, Hermione imagined that he was relishing all the different ways he could hurt her. "For now, she has other uses for me." 

"Is that all, My Lord?" said Snape curtly. 

"I want you to personally ensure that she is in good condition to be tested on. You will report back to me on her progress from the examination in one day." Voldemort said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

"Of course." 

Snape lifted his wand, her body unable to struggle as the restraints grew tighter while he, and two other Death Eaters levitated her out of the hall. 

Hermione tried to count the number of turns and steps they made through the winding halls and paths, but the throbbing pain in her skull kept making her lose focus. The events that just occurred swam before her eyes as she tried to make sense of them. The echoing screams of Neville running back and piercing her ears. Hermione grimaced. Not wanting to think about death and having all her grief come rushing back. 

They finally reached a dark, wooden door labelled 'Medical ward'. Snape pushed it open, standing to the side as the other death eaters levitated through. As they passed Snape, Hermione struggled pointedly to make eye contact with him. Wanting him to look into her eyes as he condemned her. Hermione glared at him, the rage that resided in her veins flared in her again. She wanted to break out of her restraints. Hit him. Scream at him. Make him hurt for ever allowing the Order to trust him. For allowing her to trust him. But she couldn't. She felt so confused. Could Snape just be leading her to another trap? All she could do as she passed was remain still. 

"Make sure that the Mudblood is properly guarded. Anyone that wishes to even look at the girl has to speak to either me or the Examiner directly. Do _not_ let your Lord down. The Healer will be here shortly." Snape instructed to the guards, swiftly turning on his heel with his robes billowing out behind him. 

Immediately as Hermione was lain on the cot, she felt all the exhaustion come rushing back and hit her like ton of bricks. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up back before The War had ended, but the magical restraints still felt tight around her body, as if there were iron bars curled around her torso and legs. 

Before she could attempt sleep, a tall witch with a tight bun that would rival Mcgonagal's ripped back the curtains surrounding her bed. 

"This is the mudblood, yes?" She inquired the guards. Both of them nodded bluntly. She whipped out a clipboard and quill from the inside of her robes, both floating, poised by her shoulder. She lifted her hands over Hermione's body, her wand in her hand like a conductor. Muttering quickly under her breath, seven glowing orbs of varying sizes and colours appeared along the length of her body, similar to the projection of her brain. Hermione quickly tried to take them in, guessing what each of them meant.

The orb hovering a foot above her face was glowing a fierce red, every now and then it would pulse violently in time to the throbs in her head. 

 _This must be my body signature,_ thought Hermione, thinking back to when she was a healer for the Order. The quill lingering by the Healer's shoulder began to scratch fervently against the clipboard. The Healer was looking carefully at each of the orbs, nodding or shaking her head to herself every now and then. 

She snapped her head up to look at the guards. "Why didn't any of you think to take the restraining charm away? The Dark Lord wants her in peak condition, not with her energy completely drained." The Healer said disapprovingly. Sighing, she flicked her wand lazily in hermione's direction. As movement returned to her limbs, her body exploded with pain momentarily, making Hermione let out a yell of discomfort before flopping back onto her pillow. 

"Flex your feet and hands for me." Said the Healer curtly. Hermione hesitated for a brief moment, peering at the Healer. The healer clicked her tongue. 

"well?" 

Hermione blinked. Looking down at her hands and feet while she tensed them. The scratching of the quill filled the room once more. Her head throbbed painfully again. Suddenly, she felt a wave of nausea overcome her, forcing her to lean over the side of the bed to retch of the floor. The Healer carried on looking at her notes, ignoring Hermione's pained shivers as her chest heaved. When Hermione stopped expelling the little of what was left in her stomach, the Healer drew a small bottle out of her robes, conjuring up a small plastic cup along with it. Pouring the contents of the blue potion into the cup, she thrust it into Hermione's hands. 

"Drink." 

Hermione grasped the cup carefully with her shaky hands, eyeing it suspiciously before remembering that Voldemort needed her alive. The potion tasted very bitter, the liquid going thickly down her throat. The throbbing pain began to subside and her vision became clearer. After Hermione finished her drink, the Healer vanished her vomit and empty cup and then quickly paced out of the room, speaking out loud to her quill and notes as she walked. 

Hermione gently lay her head back onto her pillow, wanting to curl up into a ball and forget this entire day had happened. Instead, she stared up at the blank ceiling, trying to absorb all of the information that was given to her today. The occlumency barriers, Neville, the examinations, Snape, the apparent tests they ran on prisoners. Hermione paused at this thought, running a quick list in her head of all the possible reasons Voldemort would need to run tests. 

Her eyelids began to feel heavy and droopy, each blink lasting longer than the one before. Her limbs felt as if they were going to sink through the bed through every passing moment. Slowly, all of Hermione's exhaustion caught up with her, pulling her into a deep sleep. 

 

Hermione usually never had extremely vivid dreams, but this time was an exception. 

_She dreamt that she was back in number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. She was walking down the corridor into the dining room, she could hear muffled laughter and the crackling of the fire. Peering into the dining room, she found Ron and Harry playing chess on the dining table, Remus listening to Tonks as she talked animatedly to him about her day, Mrs Weasley arguing with Bill about his haircut while his brothers laughed beside them, and Ginny sitting curled up by the fire while Crookshanks sat in her lap. Hermione surveyed the scene by the doorway, her heart feeling like it was about to burst from happiness. I'm home. Striding softly over to the opposite chair to Ginny, Hermione sat down in the plush seat, tucking her feat in underneath her._

_Hermione began to open her mouth to speak to Ginny, but stopped as her blood ran cold. Ginny turned to look at Hermione, but instead of the usual mischievous glint she had grown to love, she was met with cold, emotionless eyes boring into hers. "You did this to me," Neville's voice rang out of Ginny's mouth. Hermione stood up in horror, frantically backing away. She turned to run out, but she collided into Harry. He had the same glazed over expression. A shadow of what he formally was. Hermione looked around desperately at the other Order members, all of them stone faced._

_Hermione screwed her eyes shut, guilt weighing down her stomach like a stone as Neville's tortured face flashed through her mind. She couldn't understand what she was so important that she had to hide from even herself. What possibly could she be hiding? She could hear the steps of the Order members surrounding her. Their anguished wails of death ringing in her head._

_"Hermione! Why didn't you help me?" "You did this!", Their voices overlapped each other, the sound growing louder and louder. Making Hermione sink down to the ground as she yelled for it to stop._

 

Hermione eyes snapped open. Her sheets were tangled around her legs, her hair plastered to her sweaty forehead and neck. She panted hard, eyes focusing on the room around her. Now only one guard was standing by the door. He caught her eye, sneering at her fearful expression. 

Hermione glanced away, her cheeks flushing faintly. 

Because Hermione had been so preoccupied when she was first taken into her room, she never got to take in her surroundings. It was quite a small room, containing only her bed and a bedside table, separated from the others with only a thin curtain. The curtain to the left of her rustled faintly. Curious, hermione leaned over slightly to peer through the gap in the curtain. 

It was Alicia Spinnet. She looked gaunt and tired, her eyes looking huge in comparison to the rest of her pallid face. 

Hermione's heart lurched in shock as she took in the rest of Alicia.  

Alicia only had one arm, her right had been crudely wrapped by bandages, bloody stains seeping through the white. Whoever had 'healed' her clearly did not care enough to do a decent job- just enough to stop the blood loss from killing her. Hermione looked quickly to see if the guard had taken notice of her gasp; but he was busy scratching his chin absentmindedly with the end of his wand. 

Hermione turned back to look at Alicia, ducking her head slightly as she hissed her name to grab her attention. 

Alicia shifted her head slowly to find the source of the noise, jumping slightly when she caught sight of Hermione. 

"Hermione?! What are you-?" Her brows furrowed. She shifted her shoulders to Hermione so that she could speak to her more easily. 

"How many of the DA are still alive?" Hermione said urgently, trying to get as much information as possible before her guard noticed her talking to her. 

"I- uh, I'm not sure, Dean, Lee and a few others were auctioned off the other day. I'm not sure what they do with them..." Alicia voice lowered even more, now barely even a whisper. She was staring intensely at the hem of her shirt, picking at the threads. 

"oh." breathed Hermione. _Auctioned?_ Her eyes flicked back up to Alicia's face. "What- what happened to your arm?" 

Alicia lifted her stump slightly, her left hand coming to rest on her right shoulder. It seemed as if Alicia had forgotten about it as she paused. 

"Um- they were running tests on some of their new spells... I was struggling a bit too much and I hit one of them in the face. " Alicia's eyes lit up briefly, she raised her chin slightly with pride. " I guess I made them mad, one of them decided to test the decapitating spell on me, but he missed and got my arm instead. They're not allowed killing us anyway, so he got in a lot of trouble. I'm ok though." Alicia finished with a thin smile. Hermione felt weak with anger, she couldn't look at Alicia. _She's been through so much._  

There was a faint sound of of shoes clicking on linoleum and the swishing of robes. Alicia turned sharply away from Hermione, the curtain separating them once again. 

The Healer and Snape strode purposefully into the room, immersed in conversation. The Healer looked mildly surprised to see Hermione up, her eyebrows had raised slightly. Snape, however, concealed his emotions carefully, averting his gaze elsewhere. 

"Good, you're up. The Dark Lord will be putting you up for auction along with the others. While the research on your mental barriers continues, you'll be put to use for some pureblood, hopefully your spirit will be broken by then and we won't have to put so much effort into prying open your pitiful mind." drawled the Healer. Hermione glowered at Snape. Willing him to read her angered thoughts.  _An auction? Even for the Dark Side that's deprived, you would think that with the War over, they would have better things to do than gloat._

"Of course, you'll still be examined by Severus and I time and time again. But... the Dark Lord grows impatient, I doubt he will stand to have you living for too long if you don't end up proving useful..." the Healer said. Snape still said nothing, his expression completely unreadable. Hermione felt herself grow more and more angry, her blood boiled in her veins the longer she remained silent.  

The witch conjured up a bundle of plain clothes, placing it onto the bedside table next to Hermione. 

"You'll need to look presentable for when you're up for auction, of course. The guard will take you to be cleaned." The Healer nodded to the guard.Then without another word, both of them turned and left the room. 

"Get up." said the guard gruffly, his wand pointed carefully at Hermione. Hermione swung her legs of the side of the bed, her bare feet gingerly touching the cool tiled floor. She stood up gently, her legs felt wobbly and weak; as if they might fold underneath her at any moment. The guard urged her forward with his wand sharply pressing against her back. She grabbed the bundle of clothes tightly against her chest as she walked uncertainly out the door. 

Stepping tentatively outside, she looked around the corridor. It was empty except for a few Wizards that would walk in and out of curtained rooms. The guard jabbed her again with his wand. 

" _Move_." 

As the guard guided her roughly through the medical ward to the showers, Hermione's eyes darted quickly into rooms and wards, trying desperately to find people she recognised. She saw lots of Hogwarts students, most looked worn, wearing the same clothes that the Healer had given her. 

 _they're probably being auctioned as well. How disgusting,_ Hermione thought - some of the prisoners seemed so young, from around fifteen and onwards. 

They reached another large room, it was tiled and had multiple shower heads sticking out of the wall. There was no privacy. Disgust for the Death Eaters pooled in her stomach. 

The guard flicked his wand and turned one of the shower heads on. It sprayed freezing cold water out onto the tiled floor. 

"Strip. You only have five minutes to shower and get changed." 

The guard leaned against the wall, his lip curling into a mocking smirk. Hermione's nose wrinkled in disgust, turning to place her clean clothes onto a stool next to the shower. He raised his head haughtily, his eyebrow raised in expectation. 

The anger that resided in her sparked again. She turned and stepped into the shower, fully clothed. Staring defiantly at the guard. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

The water was icy and hit against her body like hard pellets, but Hermione was still grateful for the refreshing water to clean the layers of grime off her face. After Hermione finished rinsing, she turned away from the guard, peeling her wet clothes off quickly to get into the dry ones. He snickered behind her. Her hands clenched tightly into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She could feel heat emanate from her hands. 

Pushing her roughly, she was whisked away back into her room. 

Hermione sat back onto her bed, feeling slightly better now that she didn't have blood and dirt covering her body. She tilted her head back to look through the gap in the curtains, expecting to Alicia again. A lump formed in her throat, her bed was empty. 

Hermione pulled the thin sheet over her legs, shivering from her wet head of hair. She propped herself back onto the uncomfortable headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest and waited for the guard to come escort her to her doom. 

 

 

 


	3. The Bidding

Her teeth chattered loudly, her back rattling noisily against the hard headboard of her bed. 

Though she did not know what time she was going to be brought to get auctioned, Hermione had been stealing glances at the tiny clock fixed to the wall every few minutes since she had gone to shower. Hermione knew it was pointless to fret over the time and count the minutes; all she could do now was wait. 

Since Hermione had left her cell, she had kept on practicing wandless magic. Hoping that at some point, there would be an opening and she could escape. She knew wandless magic was extremely hard; only the most disciplined and powerful wizards had ever been able to produce spells reliably. However, Hermione had read before that there have been groups of witches and wizards from around the world that were known to perform magic without a wand quite adeptly.  

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. Focusing her thoughts entirely on a simple warming charm. She repeated the incantation like a mantra; _Focillo, focillo, focillo._ She screwed her eyes even tighter, breathing deeply in and out. Continuing like this for a few more moments, she slowly, but surely felt her hands warm ever so slightly. It wasn't nearly enough to warm her completely, but the tiny amount of heat encouraged her like nothing ever before. 

She opened her eyes quickly, her heart pounding against her chest. She felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards.

The guard standing by her door suddenly turned to walk towards her, she quickly straightened her face, hastily smoothing the bed covers out over her legs. 

"Time to go, Mudblood" said the guard, raising his wand again at her. 

Knowing better than to refuse, Hermione reluctantly slid off the bed and stepped cautiously out side of her room. 

At that moment, a few other timid looking students also stood outside of their rooms, all wearing the same plain white clothing. Hermione noted that they were all also at varying levels of health, some had badly bruised faces (clearly the Healers did not bother with these), missing limbs or looked pallid and gaunt. 

Hermione turned, unsure, to look at the guard. He looked down at her, his wand still raised and restrained her arms in front of her so that it looked like she was wearing invisible handcuffs. 

He pushed her roughly to the left, so that she was following a few other guards and prisoners. They were lead through and out of the medical ward, reaching a wide hall where they turned sharply to a tiny door leading upstairs. Most of the people in line did not speak, obediently walking up the stairs. The further they walked along the corridors, Hermione's heart began to beat more and more rapidly. She had not idea what would await them at the auction. 

After a considerable amount of time, they finally reached a large, brightly lit room containing two rows of stools and one long table which held a strange looking contraption. Hermione peered curiously at the object, trying to deduce what it was for. 

Before Hermione could get a second glance at it, a very stiff looking woman strode hurriedly to the front of the room. All of the prisoners stood scared, clumped into the bunch by the door. Hermione stood, shunted to the back as she stood on her tiptoes to look at the others. Her breath faltered. Of the ones she could see, she recognised; Alicia Spinnet, Dennis Creevey, Katie Bell, Parvati Patil, Roger davies, Cho Chang, and with a lurch, Luna Lovegood. 

"All of you, sit down! Your names will be called and you will come up to the table in an orderly fashion! After, you will walk out of this-" she gestured to a door to her right" -door and be auctioned to the highest bidder. No speaking, crying or struggling of any kind!" She barked, her square jaw clenching whenever she spoke. They all looked at each other nervously, until the guards prodded them with their wands and forced them into the two rows. 

Hermione squeezed her way past a few of the guards so that she could sit by Luna. Luna blinked slowly at Hermione, a small smile forming on her pale face. 

"I could sense that you weren't gone," said Luna airily, she swayed in her seat. "I hope you've been alright?" 

Hermione nodded weakly, unable to speak from the relief that Luna seemed to be in good health. The woman snapped a name from the front, calling up a terrified small boy. He was visibly shaking as he stood in front of the room. The Healer from before, stepped out from behind the door, grabbing the contraption while she inserted something into it. It looked like a muggle handgun, except it was slightly larger and had a more circular barrel. The object that the Healer inserted into the gun was no larger than a thumb, it glowed faintly. 

The boy seemed as if he was going to pass out from the sight of the gun, his face as white as a sheet. The Healer seized the boys hand, roughly yanking up the sleeve so that she could access is upper arm. He began breathing even more frantically. Hermione was sure that he was about to collapse onto the floor. 

She pointed the end of the barrel slightly diagonally onto his bicep, giving him no warning before pulling the trigger. It let out a sharp burst of air. The boy yelped in shock, his eyes watering. 

Hermione squinted at the boys arm, there was no puncture wound of any kind, no blood. But she could see a small bump where something had been inserted, it's faint glow still visible through his arm. Then before the boy could get his bearings, he was thrust through the other door. 

Luna tapped hands with her own, her head down as she whispered, "What do you think those are?" 

"I-I'm not too sure, they could be magic inhibitors or trackers of some kind?" mumbled Hermione. Luna nodded, dirty blonde hair swinging in front of her face. 

"I hope it doesn't hurt" said Luna quite pleasantly, she seemed undeterred by Hermione's words, carrying on as if she was just having a nice conversation about the weather. 

Hermione was grateful that Luna seemed somewhat herself, glad that she wasn't outwardly panicked. Otherwise, Hermione would probably also begin to fret. 

The stiff woman continued to call out names, each of them hurried away through the mysterious door. The rows slowly began to empty, and soon enough Hermione's name was called. 

"Hermione Granger." 

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her hands clenching shut. Luna squeezed her hand encouragingly.

"You'll be ok... It'll come back to you" said Luna in a hushed voice. Hermione slowly stood up, giving Luna a puzzled look at what she had just said. But she didn't have time to ask, stepping up towards the table. 

The Healer did not give Hermione a second look, roughly bunching up her sleeves to get access to her bicep. Pain exploded in her arm, the strange pellet was quickly inserted into her arm. Then, she was pushed through the door and up a set of stairs. 

As Hermione was forced up the stairs, she could hear faint shouting growing louder and louder the closer she got to the doorway at the top of the steps. She was pushed through the doorway into the sunlight, she instinctively raised her restrained hands to shield her arms from the blazing sun. 

She was standing on something that resembled a stage, a scene of total chaos met her eyes. Below her was a crowd of death eaters yelling taunts and jeers at her. She shuffled uncertainly further towards the centre of the stage, Dennis Creevey and a girl she didn't recognise also in the middle, their faces drained of all colour as they too looked at the chaotic scene before them. 

"Well!" Boomed a voice somewhere to the right of the stage." We have quite the treat today! Hermione Granger, in the flesh!" 

The jeering and taunting grew louder at the mention of her name. She recognised a few members of the crowd as they yelled. The Averys, Carrows, Travers, Lestranges, Yaxley all stood sneering at the three prisoners. 

"Firstly, we have Lana Reinheart! Halfblood, eighteen years old, 116 pounds, fought in the second and third battle, and fertile!" The man yelled, his face twisted into an expression of elation." Starting bid is 100 galleons!" 

The crowd erupted into a series of shouts, people raising their hands desperately while shouting numbers. 

"110!" 

"160!" 

"200!" 

"Highest current bid is 200 galleons! Going once, going twice, and sold! To the Averys!" 

The girl let out a wail of dismay, backing into the wall of the raised platform. She began to sob, but was drowned out by the yells from the crowd.

The guards had to push her off the stage, Avery Jr waiting at the bottom of the stage with a sneer. 

The man's booming voice continued onto Dennis, who at the sound of his name being called seemed to shrink even more. Hermione felt as if she was watching the events unfold from across a room, her head had gone blank, while her heart beat rapidly against her chest.

There was another uproar as Dennis was sold, he stepped, weeping of the stage. Hermione felt as if only a second had passed since the first girl had gone, yet her name was already being called. 

"And finally...Hermione Granger!" Shouted the man, his mouth spread into a wide grin as he gestured towards her. " Mudblood, part of the golden trio! twenty years old, former master mind of the resistance!" At this mention the crowd roared even louder, yelling obscenities and taunts. Hermione's eyes barely fluttered, she forced herself to raise her head high, her jaw tensed painfully. 

"but...The mudblood is under special observation of The Dark Lord himself, she is not to be injured or killed! The beginning bid is 500 galleons!" said the man, his tone growing more serious. The crowd quieted down considerably, it was obvious that they were reluctant to be responsible for something of high importance to Voldemort. But slowly, people began to yell numbers, growing increasingly more loud. 

"600 galleons! I'll take her! I'll take the mudblood!", yelled a hysterical voice. Hermione instantly recognised it. Bellatrix Lestrange.

A lump formed in her throat, but she forced herself to look at the psychotic witch. Her mess of hair looked even more hectic, curls dropping in front of her heavy lidded eyes. She stared directly into Hermione's eyes, Hermione flinched, the memory of Neville's tortured face flashed in her vision. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, the chaotic sound becoming muted and distant. She could faintly hear the bidding continue and grow more frantic, she ignored it. She felt as though there was an invisible hand twisted around Hermione's intestines, holding them tight. 

Hermione vaguely registered that the bidding had ended, she didn't care to see who had bought her. She staggered off the stage, the guards gripping her arms. She felt hollow inside, each step down the stairs vibrated her through to her bones. 

Once she was at the end of the steps, they pushed her forward. She looked down and saw the snakeskin shoes of her new owner, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to look up at him. She didn't want to. They turned on their heel and walked away, the pellet in her arm burning slightly, compelling her to follow him. He brought her away from the crowd's jeering, turning behind a wall. 

"Grab my arm." said the man cruelly, by now it was more of a formality, the chip in her arm seemed to force her to be obedient anyway. She gripped his arm tightly, it felt cold. Hermione felt the familiar squeezing sensation while they dissaparated from the clearing. 

with a small _pop_ they appeared in what appeared to be his home, a pristine foyer materialised beneath their feet. Her knees buckled while she gasped for air, her eyes streaming from the uncomfortable pressure from dissaparating. As her knees hit the marble floor sharply, her head beginning to throb again. Hermione pressed her hands hard against the cool floor, grateful for the solid ground - She had never been very fond of apparation. 

The man stood over her for a few seconds, she could feel his gaze burning into her back while she shuddered on the floor. She looked at his dark green, shiny boots, they had a metal cap on the end, _probably good for kicking_ , Hermione mused. 

"Get up." Something inside Hermione stirred, the back of her neck began to prickle at the sound of his voice.  

Hermione got up shakily, trying her best to steady herself in front of the man. She drew herself up to full height, suddenly realising just how tall the man was. 

Unlike most of the other death eaters she'd seen, his mask was much more ornate and elaborate, the thin snake like slits in the mask showed eerily familiar silver eyes. He reached his hand to the back of his mask, unclasping it. With the other he pulled it off his face, revealing himself to Hermione. 

Her neck stiffened, breath hitching in her throat as she eyed the man before her. He had white blond hair, it was slicked back, parted neatly to the side. His silver eyes were glittering menacingly. The tendons in his neck and jaw popped as he clenched his jaw. 

"Hello, Granger." 

 _Draco Malfoy_.

Unlike the spoilt boy who's emotions had always simmered just under the surface, this man was cold. Calculating. Emotionless. She no longer recognised him. 

Hermione opened her mouth, but then shut it firmly, hesitating. She studied his face carefully, he was completely transformed from the last memories Hermione had of him. 

He no longer had that naive quality in him that she always recognised. Instead, he looked ruthless and cruel, the way he carried himself made him have an air of menace. 

Despite his evident luxurious lifestyle, his face looked particularly drained, his cheekbones jutted out slightly, adding to his intimidating nature. 

He was wearing a thick and dark cloak, the collar was high and covered his neck, grazing his jawline. Underneath it she caught a glimpse of shiny metal strapped to his belt, but he sharply pulled his robes in tighter, concealing the object. 

Hermione stared up at his face in astonishment, she felt numb with shock. She swallowed thickly, her mind grasping desperately for speech. 

"Do you even remember me?" He asked mockingly, he tilted his head cockily to the side. Perhaps not all of his boyhood had left him. 

" _You._ " Snarled Hermione through her teeth, her nostrils flared while she stared angrily at him.

But something was holding her back, all she wanted to do was scream and rip and tear at him. But a persistent voice in the back of her head, flared whenever she thought about hurting him. 

_Be obedient._

_Do not struggle._

She shook her head slightly, the voice felt scratchy in her skull. 

Malfoy snorted, "The inhibitor really does work." But although Hermione could tell he was amused by this, his voice still sounded cold and monotone. 

As Hermione stared at him tensely, her inhibitor burned once more.

As if sensing this, Malfoy eyed her coldly. 

"I wonder... How long will it take the famous Granger to crack? Do you really think that one pitiful mudblood such as yourself can impede The Dark Lord's plans?" He drawled. His eyes roamed lazily around the room, not bothering to look at Hermione. She felt her neck prickle again, heat rising to her face. 

"Why-why did _you_ \- buy- me?" Hermione gritted out, her disgust rose at the word. 

"The Dark Lord has plans that will not be stopped. I was not going to allow some low life death eater compromise our efforts for some pitiful carnal desire. As the Dark Lord's right hand, I will see to it that you're memories will be accessible through any means possible. The Dark Lord does not like to be disappointed." 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as if calming himself. He straightened out his robes slightly. 

"Your room will be in the servants quarters in the west wing. You are not permitted to venture into the south wing without my permission, I will know if you have. Otherwise, the grounds and estate are free for you to roam, you will remain unseen when guests are here unless you are required." He paused, pursing his lips slightly, his brow furrowing a tiny bit. "If you come across Lucius...you are not allowed speaking to him unless spoken to first...That is all. Severus will come every few weeks or so to examine the progress on your memory restoration." 

Without another word, Malfoy swept away, his black cloak swishing behind him while his shoes echoed against the hard floor. 

Hermione stood still for a few moments, barely registering that Malfoy had left since she was still so shocked. Blinking unsteadily, Hermione stepped cautiously further into the foyer. Hermione had to admit that the architecture of the Malfoy's estate was beautiful, the foyer opened up to two sleek staircases, winding up to the second floor which overlooked the ground floor. To Hermione's surprise, there was a lot of natural sunlight streaming in from the tall windows. If someone had never met the Malfoys and had seen their house, you would expect them to be extravagant 

Despite the beautiful scenery, Hermione felt ill looking at it.  _I'm in Malfoy's house. I'm trapped here._ She wobbled slightly where she stood, weak from hunger and the day's tiring events. 

There was a small _crack_ and a house elf popped in front of her. 

"Wiply is to take you to your room!" she squeaked, her round eyes took up the largest portion of her face, while her ears were just as large. Giving Hermione the impression of a slightly disproportionate bat. WIply extended her skinny hand towards Hermione, urging her to take it. 

"ok, Wiply" said Hermione in a small voice. Letting the small house elf drag her through the house's wide halls. 

"Wiply is to be looking after the mudblood! But Wiply is not wanting to!" said Wiply cheerily, as if she hadn't just insulted Hermione. 

"This is - Ms Granger's room" Wiply said loudly, pointing at a door at the end of the corridor. She flinched when she said Hermione's name, probably because she wasn't used to addressing a 'mudblood' in such a formal way. 

"Thank you." said Hermione politely, hesitatingly pushing the dark oak door open with her fingertips. Hermione peered her head curiously into the room, Wiply disappearing from behind her with a _crack_. 

Hermione ventured into the room, the door shutting closed as she stepped fully into her new living space. 

It was definitely more spacious than the cell she had lived in for the past year, it contained one bed to the side of the room, a low set of drawers, and a floor to ceiling window with dark green curtains. 

She walked eagerly a few steps across the room to the window, wanting to open it and breath the fresh air. But as she got closer to the window, she could feel strong wards shielding her from unlatching it. She felt a deep vibration pulse through her when she placed her hand on the glass, it didn't hurt, but she definitely wouldn't be able to break the glass. As she walked around her room, she could feel more protective wards placed around it. It hadn't occurred to her before, but she realised that the protection wasn't just so that Hermione would escape  

 _Malfoy is definitely thorough_. 

Hermione explored what little left was in the room. She pulled open the top drawer of the dresser, expecting it to be empty, but found a set of plain night clothes, a small stack of white dresses, and one dress that was a deep navy with the Malfoy family crest embroidered into the chest. Hermione opened the bottom drawer, unveiling socks, underwear and three pairs of slippers. 

Other than the few items of clothing and plain furniture, her room was completely barren and devoid of any personality. 

Hermione sat herself down on the edge of the bed, the silk sheets were the same colour as the curtains. She splayed her fingers out on the sheets, feeling it's lavishness. Feeling slightly taken aback that the Malfoys would still spend this amount on a slave. 

She fell back heavily onto the bed, staring up at the blank wall as she had just a day ago in the medical ward. But even now, with no guard watching her constantly, a bed and clean clothes, she felt more trapped than ever before. 

 


	4. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update!! I will try my best to keep bringing updates regularly! Let me know if you guys prefer big updates less frequently or shorter updates more frequently!

There was a throbbing pain at the base of Hermione's head as she blinked her eyes blearily. She was lying on top of the covers of her bed, her head resting uncomfortably atop the hard pillows.

For a brief moment, Hermione didn't realise where she was, thinking she was back in Grimmauld place. But, she had fallen asleep just after she was brought to her new 'owner's' house, making her flinch involuntarily as she thought about it. 

She stiffly pushed herself into a sitting position, her arms and legs sore from the awkward sleep. 

Her room had gotten dark during her brief rest, the moon just barely illuminating the outlines of the furniture. It eerily reminded her of her time in her cell, stumbling around, with nothing but her thoughts.

For some reason, Hermione noticed that she wasn't particularly bothered by this reminder, in fact, the darkness comforted her. It hid and softened the harsh truths she now had to face for who knows how long. 

Pulling herself up off the bed, she groggily made her way to the door, feeling for the light switch as she went. Quickly, Hermione's hands stumbled onto the hard plastic, flicking it tightly, flooding the room with brightness. 

The throbbing pain seared in her head once more, she hissed, her hand moving sharply to press the back of her head. 

It was probably just from the prolonged hours of mind probing, Hermione reasoned to herself. But despite her logic, the throbbing pain touched something in her mind that felt slightly familiar. 

She shuddered slightly, brushing the faint thought away, bringing herself to think of more pressing matters. 

She brought herself to sit at the edge of her bed, her hands placed tensely in her lap. Hermione recounted the past events of the last few days carefully, scanning over every detail to see if she missed something. But from the drawn out mind probing, her mind felt tender and fragile as she sifted through her memories: 

She examined her mind methodically, starting at her time in the dark cell. But, she quickly moved on to when she was being interrogated by Voldemort and Severus.

The conversation Voldemort had with the mind healer felt vague and distant, her memories of it slightly clouded by the torture and pain that followed shortly after. 

The short man had said something about her mental blocks being wider than those of the other Order members. 

Hermione blinked and frowned sightly, why would her mind be blocked more than the others?

Hermione knew from her time studying that self made mental barriers were used to keep others out, but they rarely kept the owner's memories from themselves.

So, why couldn't she remember what was blocked? 

Her brow furrowed, eyes closed in intense concentration. 

_Think, Hermione._

But she couldn't, feeling hollow and dumbfounded at her helplessness. For the first time, Hermione was at a loss of what to do. 

There was a twinge of pain again in the back of her skull. Hermione reached instinctively up to the base of her head, clutching it tightly as she hissed again from the pain. She doubled over, her eyes screwed up as the stinging increased and spread to the rest of her skull. 

 

 _"_ _What if it doesn't work, Hermione?"_  

A flash of colour burst across her shut eyelids. 

_"The defences are in place, if I'm captured, they'll work. I'm sure of it."_

The colours began to form together, roughly. A face? 

_"When will we see each other again?"_

_"I - I don't know."_

Hermione grasped desperately at the slipping memory, feeling it wisp away from her mind's hold. From the depths of her mind, there were faint sounds of shouting and wailing, they sounded miles away, yet her heart hammered against her chest as if they were right there. 

The colours twisted and contorted, light grey and white flickering like the flame of a candle. But within moments, the colours faded away as quickly as they appeared. The distant memory retreating as if someone had extinguished a candlelight. 

Reality and her surroundings came rushing back to her with full force. The feeling of her fingers grip into her head and the sharp pain in her skull suddenly felt innumerably more painful than before she had blacked out. Hermione fell back onto the bed, panting and shaking heavily as if she had just ran a marathon. 

She shakily raised a weak hand to wipe the light drops of sweat from her brow, thinking intently on the memory she had seemingly just unlocked. Hermione supposed that the Order had come up with a contingency plan, but she wasn't sure.

When the Order's older members had died, she, Ron and Harry had to take up the roles of leaders to plan and strategise for the upcoming wars.

She remembered clearly how quickly they were forced to mature and shed their naive ideals of the world. Ron took it especially hard, he constantly blamed himself for the deaths of Resistance members. Pushing himself harder each time to do better. After the first war, he quickly became worn and desolate, withdrawing into himself, not leaving any room for Hermione anymore. 

Hermione took a great, shuddering breath and pushed her overgrown bangs from her face. The throbbing in her head was beginning to subside, and feeling considerably less shaken, she got up from the bed and walked over to the window. 

Dawn was slowly creeping up across the estate, flooding the wide field with purple and blue lights. It silhouetted the garden's trees and neatly trimmed bushes, the gentle mist shrouding it slightly. Hermione couldn't help but admit how beautiful the Malfoys land was, feeling bitter at the thought. 

Before long, Hermione began to feel the urge to go to the bathroom. But realising she didn't have a toilet, she begrudgingly opened the door to the hallway outside her room. As expected, it was completely empty.

Hermione stepped tentatively out into the hall. She knew judging from the lack of burning sensation coming from the inhibitor that she was allowed to, but she couldn't suppress the sinking feeling that was coming from her stomach. After shifting warily side to side in the middle of the hall, she realised stupidly that she had no idea where the bathroom was. And she knew that she'd rather her bladder burst before she ever had to find Malfoy and ask him. 

She let out an frustrated breath of exasperation from her nose. Then the thought occurred to her - 

"Wiply?", whispered Hermione.  

There was a small _crack_ and the tiny elf appeared before her. 

"Yes? How is Wiply to be helping the Mudblood?" said Wiply obediently. 

Hermione bit back an angry retort. Reminding herself that it wasn't Wiply's fault that she was raised to hate Muggle borns. 

"Could you help me find the bathroom, Wiply?" said Hermione stiffly. 

The little house elf stared at her intently for a moment, then she twisted on the spot and began to hobble away down the corridor. Hermione followed her after a second, striding quickly to catch up with the elf. 

Wiply stopped abruptly at a white door at the end of the hall. She pointed at it with one small hand. 

"This is the Mudblood's bathroom."

"Um... Do you think I could have a toothbrush?" asked Hermione. 

Wiply looked up at Hermione carefully, it was obvious that she was trying to think if Hermione could do anything bad with a toothbrush. She looked down again, muttering to herself.

"Master said... but she is a... I don't take orders..." She continued to mutter under her breath incredulously as if Hermione wasn't standing right in front of her. Hermione waited impatiently, starting to feel uncomfortable from holding her pee in for so long. 

Finally, the elf seemed to have decided. Handing a toothbrush she had materialised from thin air wordlessly to Hermione and disappearing with a final _crack_. 

Hermione quickly pushed the door to the bathroom open. It was plain, nothing like the ornate and decorated rooms of the rest of the manor. It contained a toilet, a sink, a mirror, and a bathtub. After relieving herself she went over to wash her hands, enjoying the feeling of cool, rushing water. Hermione looked up into the mirror and recoiled slightly. 

She didn't recognise herself. 

There were dark bags under her eyes, her skin looked washed out and her face, gaunt. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, cheekbones jutting out sharply from under her now, long bangs. Hermione ran a hand through her tangled hair, it had grown long and wild, down past her shoulders. 

Unlike during the war, Hermione wasn't muscular and strong anymore. Her frame looked wasted away and she felt weak and thin. Hermione gazed at the figure before her for a few more moments.

Hermione's mouth contorted involuntarily, as though she had just tasted something very sour. Tearing her eyes from her own, she yanked the door open quickly, striding as fast as she could back into the safety of her room. 

The door swung shut behind her with a click.

She leaned against the door, closing her eyes and feeling it's solidness. 

_You're okay. You're okay. It's not over yet._

Hermione took one final breath, suppressing the voice in the back of her head that wanted to say ' _Yeah right_ ' and opened her eyes. 

A table and chair had appeared by the window in her room. It held a tray of food, a glass of water and nothing else. 

Smelling the hot food, Hermione realised suddenly how hungry she was. Hermione pulled out the chair and sat down heavily at the table. It was the first proper meal that she had since she had been locked up in her cell. 

Hermione practically inhaled her food, barely stopping for breath. When she finished, she examined the porcelain plate and metal utensils. The fork and knife felt luxuriously heavy in her hands. She held the knife up to eye level, the edge of it glinted in the sunlight - it was surprisingly sharp. She wondered why they would let her have Then, a thought occurred to her: 

Hermione urgently rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, pressing gingerly with her right hand on to the glowing inhibitor. Hermione picked up the knife again, bringing it up to press against the inhibitor. Her heart began to beat rapidly, maybe she could - 

The inhibitor burned sharply, her arm became rigid and she couldn't bring the knife any closer to her bicep. Her hand slacked open and the knife fell with a clatter onto the hard floor. 

Hermione looked down at it, numb. Her head was ringing and she felt an angry twisting sensation in her stomach. 

The knife could have easily punctured through her skin. It could have ripped right through her flesh to get to the inhibitor. It would have been easy to stab herself right then and there, foil Voldemort's plan - but she couldn't. 

The inhibitor had stopped her.

They had taken even that away from her. 

The odd twisting sensation rose up again, along with a sob that rose up in her throat. Hermione quickly stopped herself from crying, refusing to allow herself to shed any tears in Malfoy's home. 

After that incident, nothing else interesting occurred.

In the beginning she would come up with plans to escape, usually involving Malfoy or some other person, but she quickly learned that no one every came by the Manor. She assumed Malfoy was off doing Voldemort's bidding. So without any means to escape, she would spend most of her days in her room same as she did in her cell; reciting spells, recipes, practicing wandless magic, but she found that even if she had a wand to perform magic, her inhibitor would stop her from even touching it.

Despite her new access to a bathroom, change of clothes, and regular meals. This was barely a source of comfort.

She felt just as isolated and unknowledgeable from the outside world as she did before. The only other living being she ever interacted with was Wiply, but even those interactions were limited.  

Two weeks had passed without any word of what was going on with the resistance or the dark side.

Hermione was trying to keep her harsh guesses at bay by tracing potion recipes and spells onto the fogged glass of the window, attempting vainly not to think about the dwindling numbers of the Order. 

She heard the door to her room click open. She swung her head round from the window, opening her mouth to greet Wiply but was met with the grey eyes of Malfoy. 

Hermione stood violently from her chair, causing it to tip back and land loudly behind her. Her heartbeat was beating thunderously in her ears while she stepped away slightly. 

"Didn't expect such a warm welcome" said Malfoy sarcastically, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly upward from the tense look on Hermione's face. 

He seemed every bit as cold and disdainful as he had since she last saw him. But Hermione thought he looked more drawn (if that was even possible), even ill, and there was something forced about the tone of his voice. 

Hermione opened her mouth warily to speak, eyeing him uneasily as he straightened the front of his robes. 

"Am I being examined again today?" said Hermione in the calmest voice she could muster, but her mind betrayed her, the sight of Malfoy making her think instantly of the horrible mind probing sessions that were still seared into her brain. 

His expression was unreadable, his eyes flicking momentarily away. 

"No. The Dark Lord has come to a decision as to how to make you useful." said Malfoy in a more deadpan voice. "He has summoned us to him." 

He jerked his head slightly towards the door, his nostrils flaring. He strode out the door, his robes whipping out behind him. 

Hermione could only stand back for a few seconds before there was a small, familiar burning sensation in her arm, compelling her to follow. 

He stalked quickly through the manor, Hermione trailing behind him. When they finally reached the main entrance and crossed the threshold, Malfoy turned abruptly to face her. She stopped quickly, almost running into him. He didn't say a word as he gripped her arm and apparated with her to Voldemort. 

They apparated into the same hall that Hermione was interrogated in.

Hermione immediately gasped for air as the appeared in the hall, but immediately regretted. It had the same rancid and humid smell, if not more. She actually had to stop herself from gagging as she took her first breath. 

Malfoy dropped her arm quickly, stepping off the dais that they stood on to walk forward towards Voldemort. 

Now that she wasn't restrained to a table, Hermione could take in the full hall. It was so large and dark that Hermione almost felt as if the air in between the floor and ceiling was crushing her. The edges of the hall were lined with green flamed torches, symmetrical doors and archways leading to other rooms. At the end of the hall, she could see a large, stone chair. She couldn't tell from where she was standing, but the chair seemed to be writhing slightly while Voldemort lounged lazily on it. 

Suddenly, it felt as if there was an invisible lead yanking her forward, dragging her towards her imminent doom. She struggled futilely against it, her feet dragging across the floor. She realised with a jolt that the chair was not moving, but Voldemort had a multitude of snakes entwining themselves around and on him. 

Voldemort let out a scornful laugh. His high voice ringing out through the hall. 

"I'm impressed with how well the inhibitors have worked."  

"Yes, My Lord. Your idea was, of course, ingenious." said Draco, inclining his head. 

Hermione strained fruitlessly against the inhibitor. Panic beginning to seep in as Voldemort stared at her with his red eyes. 

"As you know, the resistance has proved more of a problem than I predicted. They seem to have regained hope for some pathetic reason." 

Hermione stopped struggling, a small flame of optimism blossoming in her chest. 

" _But_ , this has happened before. That pitiful ounce of hope they've found will be easily snuffed out. The Resistance just has to be reminded of their significance... Now that we have claimed control over the media and the ministry, public opinion can easily be swayed to our side. The Resistance will no longer be able to recruit from the public, as any hope that the Resistance will prevail, will be discouraged." 

Hermione glanced sideways at Malfoy. For a second his face held an expression that seemed very troubled, but now was carefully blank. 

"How can I help, My Lord?" 

Voldemort stopped running his hands along the scales of Nagini, and looked critically at Malfoy. 

"The public needs to think that resistance is submitting... Using the Mudblood will be the perfect opportunity. She will accompany you to functions and you will pretend that you are happily..together." Voldemort continued, staring down at the pair of them. Malfoy's eyes had widened slightly, his jaw clenched. 

" Once the public sees that the remaining member of the golden trio has joined the right hand of The Dark Lord, they will yield." 

"I... Of - course, My Lord..." said Draco, bowing low. 

Hermione gritted her teeth, an unpleasant, hollow sensation had began in the pit of her stomach. 

"Do you... Object?" asked Voldemort, he had begun stroking Nagini again, his voice was raised menacingly. 

"Not at all. An excellent plan, My Lord." Malfoy inclined his head again. 

"I believe the medical department and Severus have made a discovery that will also prove beneficial to this... demonstration. He will be visiting you shortly with the medical examiner." He finished this with an air of finality, waving them off. 

After expressing his goodbyes, Draco turned sharply away, not giving Hermione a second look as she dithered uncertainly on the spot. 

When they returned to the Manor, Malfoy took a sharp intake of breath and turned to face Hermione. 

She looked at him through unfocused eyes, her head had began to throb again from the pressure of dissaparating. 

"You will only be needed during functions and other necessary events. We will maintain a facade for the media and public, but nothing else." said Malfoy curtly. 

Hermione noted that his eyes seemed to be even more cold and feral than before. He seemed to be having trouble maintaining expressionless. 

He shook back his robes and briskly drew up his wrist to check his watch. She looked surreptitiously at it, it didn't have any clock hands or numbers on it's face. Instead, it was a deep midnight blue with a swirling mass in the centre that twisted as he inspected it. 

"Severus and Healer Tarren will be arriving soon, they will inform us on the remainder of the plan." continued Malfoy, and deciding that this was enough information, he spared her one look of disdain before walking into the neighbouring drawing room.

There was the quiet sound of Malfoy sitting down on cushions and the rustle of a newspaper. 

Hearing this, Hermione exhaled. She glanced around apprehensively, half expecting Snape and the Healer to pop out of no where and scare her. After nothing happened, a small burning sensation began in her arm. She glanced down at it, at first uncertain at what Malfoy was ordering her to do. But it felt as if there was a small, insistent voice in the back of her head, urging her on. 

 _Go to the drawing room._  

It felt odd, it was unlike the Imperius curse which she was familiar with. Instead, the voice kind of made her _want_ to follow the orders. Hermione had to admit, rather begrudgingly, how sophisticated the magic was in the inhibitor. It wasn't using force to achieve it's aims, it compelled them to follow the orders, making her own voice in the back of her head whisper about how she _needed_ to be obedient. 

Hermione forced down a shudder, entering the drawing room and straightening her face. Malfoy was reclining back onto a sofa, his eyes lazily scanning the headlines of _the prophet_. 

Malfoy looked up from the paper, folding it neatly and placing it onto the coffee table. He stared at her expectantly, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He looked impatient. 

Hermione felt mildly taken aback, how had he known she was going to ask him something? She opened her mouth to ask her question but was interrupted - 

Who Hermione recognised as the Healer and Snape strode into the room. He stopped just by the doorway, his dark eyes swept across the scene, from Draco staring irritatedly at him, to Hermione standing nervously on the other side of the coffee table. 

"What discovery have you made?" 

"We've finalised the research on breaking mental barriers. Fortunately, it seems as though the method coincides with The Dark Lord's plan's for you..." said Snape.

Hermione suddenly felt incredibly ignorant, wishing that she could have remembered all of her studying on mental barriers. Her eyes flicked sideways to look at Healer Tarren, who was walking further into the room with her wand out. She waved a hand out at Hermione, making her legs fold and sit harshly onto the sofa. She flicked her wand in the direction of Hermione's abdomen, and she felt an odd wrenching sensation. 

A projection of something appeared in front of Healer Tarren. She recognised it immediately, it was her uterus.

"Gestation, is a difficult and energy draining process for witches. Many are completely unable to perform any sort of magic during the pregnancy because of the amount of magic and strain it takes." said Tarren absentmindedly, she was inspecting the projection of her uterus, jotting several things down as she did so. 

Hermione's face paled. Her mouth suddenly felt like a sponge. 

"Thus, since other more conventional methods have proved fruitless, a pregnancy will finally bring the information that we require." She continued, boredom peaking through in her voice. 

"The Dark Lord also hopes that his ranks may produce more heirs, since the plummet in fertility in purebloods, we've sadly had to resort in using the other fertile members of the population." There was a bitter tone in Healer Tarren's voice, as if she couldn't fathom the idea of copulating with Muggle borns.

Hermione struggled to swallow the information, she remembered vaguely that the presenter during the bidding noted fertility as well. Suddenly making sense to her now. 

"Once the gestation is successful, either myself or Malfoy will regularly check the progress of the barriers." said Snape. He turned his head towards Hermione, who was now looking pointedly at the ground. "Healer Tarren will finish the examination." 

He nodded curtly to Malfoy and the Healer, turning on his heel and leaving the room. There was a faint _crack_ from outside and he was gone. 

Tarren looked back at Hermione, waving her wand in complicated strokes. More projections appeared, hovering just in front of the last one. 

Hermione couldn't believe what she had heard. She wouldn't believe it. The thought of _Malfoy_... She had the sudden urge to throw up her breakfast. her breath increasing onto the verge of hyperventilating. She felt the tears that she held back for so long sting her eyes. 

Malfoy said nothing. He looked away from the sight of Hermione as though she was indecent, choosing instead to carefully clench and unclench his jaw. 

Tarren surveyed her vitals in a bored expression, clearly annoyed by Hermione's increased heart beat and pressure as she rolled her eyes. 

" _Calm down._ " Tarren hissed. 

But her words only spurred her panic even more. Causing her to sway slightly in her seat. 

Hermione's vision blurred and she fell sideways, only briefly hearing Tarren's words of exasperation. 


	5. The first night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter features rape.  
> Viewer discretion is advised.

The noises of the surrounding room were muffled; all Hermione could hear was her own heavy breathing. The memory of her falling to the floor rushed back up to her, but she now lay on her back on the sofa. 

Her eyes scanned the room from beneath her fluttering eyelids. There were two figures standing in front of her, she could just barely make out their silhouettes through the blurred view from her eyes. Hermione shook her head slightly, trying to clear the cobwebs from her tired mind. Still feeling faint, she tried to sit up, but her arms and legs felt brittle and weak. 

Hermione settled back into the cushions, slightly resigned. Instead she turned her head to face the couple arguing before her.

They continued without pause, obviously not noticing Hermione's silent struggle beside them. 

"She is malnourished and her muscles have dystrophied! No wonder she's fainted! How do you expect to fool the public if she looks as if she's been starved and chained up?" hissed Healer Tarren, she looked distinctly disheveled, standing rigidly in front of Malfoy. She seemed as if she was trying her best to remain calm, but her voice betrayed her; raising ever so slightly as Malfoy continued to scowl at her. 

"What do you think? Do you expect me to abandon my post? It's been difficult enough after staging the coup-" said Malfoy.

Unlike Tarren, his voice remained completely calm and unwavering. 

Malfoy's indifferent nature appeared to have only infuriated Tarren more. Her nostrils flared and a few stray hairs from her bun flew around her narrow face. 

"You should have thought of that before the bidding, Malfoy!" spat Healer Tarren, "I don't know what you and Severus discussed, but my job- _my life_ is on the line if this plan does not work." 

This comment seemed to have reached Malfoy because at the mention of Severus, his eyes darkened and he looked away from the Healer. There was a heavy silence for a moment, Healer Tarren looking remorseful after realising that she crossed a line. 

"What Severus and I discuss is none of your concern...I don't know what you've been told... but I find it foolish of you to believe that I would actually ever care about your life. " said Draco slowly, eyeing her with such an intensity, Hermione was surprised he wasn't burning holes into Tarren. 

Tarren shrank back hastily, inclining her head. 

Hermione glanced furtively -her eyes still slightly closed -at the now timid Healer.

Tarren had turned a pale puce colour and her eyes were still averted pointedly from Malfoy.

Hermione hadn't realised how influential Malfoy had become, judging from the amount of fear he had suddenly instilled into Tarren at one comment, he had much more power than she originally guessed. 

"I- I will finish the examination... Severus will be sending instructions later today." 

The face of the cruel Healer Hermione had seen just moments ago was completely changed, she looked like a wounded dog. Hermione would almost pity her if it wasn't for the fact that the Healer in charge of the bidding. 

Malfoy spared her one last look of contempt before scoffing lightly and turning sharply out of the room. 

Healer Tarren gave one great exhale of air as the last of Malfoy's robes swished out of sight. Her expression twisted momentarily. Hermione had the impression that she was undergoing some painful internal struggle. 

Finally, she smoothed back her hair and straightened her robes, regaining the same clinical quality she had maintained before. Sensing that she would definitely not be happy if she learned that Hermione had heard that conversation, Hermione quickly shut her eyes again, feigning sleep. 

In the darkness of her shut eyes, Hermione's neck prickled in anxious anticipation. 

She heard the swishing of robes and the odd, uneasy sensation of ice water being poured down her neck made her instinctively shoot up, shuddering into a sitting position. 

"You fainted." said Healer Tarren stonily. 

"I-I.. um-"

Hermione stopped herself when she looked up at Healer Tarren. Although it seemed she was vainly trying to conceal her emotions, Hermione could see the anger bubbling just below the surface.

She could tell that the Healer was blaming her for the argument she had with Malfoy, and knew better than to speak. 

The examination was continued in steely silence. The Healer prodding her unnecessarily hard with her wand. 

When she was finished, she wordlessly vanished the projections and walked out of the manor. 

\-----

The rest of the day passed slowly. It felt almost the same as it did before; Hermione had pushed the new information to do with Malfoy to the back of her head for now. She felt as if all of her experiences were slowly eroding her old self away, and if she thought about the new events, she would fall apart. 

Hermione walked into the little bathroom, to the shower beneath a tiny window overlooking the gardens. The sun was slowly obscuring itself over the horizon, deep red and gold, as she washed. 

She scrubbed her skin roughly, just painful enough that it distracted from her dark train of thought that had come to her before, but with nothing else to think of, Hermione felt her mind slowly get drawn to the examination...

Malfoy definitely would not be able to hurt her, Hermione knew that his loyalty to Voldemort would probably never fail. She knew that Malfoy would do anything that Voldemort asked of him, and that included keeping Hermione 'safe'. 

Unless... Hermione thought... She had seen him almost lose his temper earlier that day.

He wasn't completely impervious.

If she couldn't hurt him physically, maybe she could make him snap mentally. 

Perhaps if she pressed him enough, he would lash out. And by doing so, unintentionally ruining Voldemort's plan. 

She had stopped scrubbing her body. The soap bar was clutched painfully tight in her hand. 

No.

He probably wouldn't. He wasn't the same emotional boy she knew in Hogwarts, he wouldn't let his emotions overcome him. 

But... 

Healer Tarren wasn't. Hermione knew from her reactions that she couldn't care less about a Mudblood like Hermione, she thought that the breeding program, however vital, was distasteful because of the involvement of mixed bloods. 

And, she had let her anger get the better of her when she was with Malfoy, the right hand of Voldemort. 

Hermione stood quite still, eyes glazed, watching the streams of water slide over her body and splash noisily onto the floor. Then she looked down at her hands clenched tightly and was momentarily surprised to see that the soap bar had slipped out of her hands and fallen to the floor. 

She finished washing herself and returned to the hall, and as she did so, there was a _crack_ and the small form of Wiply materialised in front of her. 

Hermione stopped towelling her hair dry, mildly surprised at the sudden appearance of the house elf, when she knew the house elves resented having to clean after a Mudblood. 

"The instructions have been sent! Wiply will be assisting the Mudb- Granger from now on!" said Wiply. Her tennis ball shaped eyes had bulged slightly as she struggled to not call Hermione a Mudblood. 

"You could have told me this in my room, Wiply" said Hermione, she felt uneasy in the vast hallway, as if it's expansive walls would swallow her if she hung around for too long. 

"The... The house elves was told to be more accommodating to Granger- So, Wiply thought Granger should know that Mr. Malfoy is waiting in her room!" she burst out. 

Hermione wanted to respond, but found that a hard lump had formed in her throat. 

"I-um, thank you." Hermione managed to choke out. 

Hermione thought she saw a flicker of pity flash across Wiply's vast eyes briefly. 

"Wiply should't be keeping Granger too long, Wiply will take this." she said, reaching up to take Hermione's dirty clothes and towel. 

Her squeaky voice sounded far away and distant now. As Hermione walked down the rest of the hallway, each stepped sounded like someone dropping heavy brass. 

_What does he want? Surely they weren't going to..._

Her hand was already gripping the cold doorknob. Trembling, she twisted and pushed it open. 

Malfoy was sitting in the chair on the other side of the room, he was turned to face the window slightly. In his hand, he clutched a short glass of some amber fluid, the ice already melted. 

He didn't react at all when Hermione entered the room. Seeming more interested in the fading light of the sun to pay her any notice. 

Internally, Hermione was grateful, she would rather the contact remain as minimal as possible before they had to publicly announce their 'relationship'. 

The growing silence felt deafening in Hermione's ears, she wanted to make a sound, indicate her arrival, but something kept her rooted to the spot. Everything inside her felt cold and tight: she kept seeing the contemptuous expression on Voldemort's face when he told them of the plan. 

Malfoy raised his wand hand lazily, pointing at the door and doing a little flick so that it would shut. She flinched at the sudden noise that finally penetrated the heavy silence that draped both of them. 

"My aunt will be holding a soiree in two weeks time, the Dark Lord expects us to make an appearance then because reporters will be there to document the event... He believes that it is imperative that you maintain good health- in preparation." said Malfoy, he was eyeing Hermione with an unreadable expression. "Wiply and the other elves will prepare you for that." 

Hermione felt relief radiate across her face, tension beginning to drain from it. They weren't going to have to do anything tonight. 

Malfoy procured a piece of paper out of thin air, tapping it with his wand, dark lines and printed writing appeared across it. 

"This will tell you the dates." continued Malfoy. He placed the thin parchment onto the table and withdrew a parcel from inside his robes, also placing this on the table. 

Without another word or even look of disdain, the door shut behind him and he was gone again. 

She stood for a few more seconds in the middle of the room. She wanted to go to sleep and pretend none of the days events had happened. But the piece of paper and parcel kept drawing her eyes like a dead body. 

Feeling resigned, Hermione went to go look the objects, feeling that it would be better not to put the inevitable off. 

The parchment looked like a plain calendar, but when she picked it up, she could feel it vibrate lightly with enchantments.

She peered at the date, _20th August 2004._  

The date came as a shock to Hermione, realising with a cold dread that it had already been seven years since Dumbledore died and the Wars had started. 

Forcing herself to continue on, she read the rest of the little writing in the calendar: 

_29th August - 3th September: Fertile days_

_9th september 2004: Lestrange's Soiree_  

She lightly brushed over the five days indicating that she was fertile, but there was a horrible taste in her mouth as she read the name 'Lestrange', she was surprised that the Witch was sane enough to even hold a fancy party.

Hermione turned the paper over in her hands, the rest of the months were not inked in yet, probably because they were too far away. 

But as she continued to search for more information, new ink blossomed on the back of the parchment, reading

_Instructions for the Odalisques:_

Hermione supposed bitterly that this was what the rest of the fertile slaves were sold for. 

_1\. Remain obedient, what your Master says is law._

_2\. Remain cooperative, do not struggle before, during or after copulation._

_3\. Remain healthy, you will try to the best of your ability to produce healthy children._

_4\. Remain respectful, rudeness towards your Master or their partners is not acceptable._

As Hermione read the lines in her head, they glowed and burned on the page, causing her inhibitor to burn just as painfully. 

Wincing and pressing onto the lump in her forearm to subside the pain, Hermione placed the parchment back onto the table. Her eyes now turning to the large parcel. 

She weighed it carefully in her hands, it was definitely heavier than it looked. The string and parchment unwound itself and folded open in her hands. 

Inside held a collection of small vials of a thick maroon colour, they were labeled 'to be taken daily'. After letting a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach pass, her eyes moved on from the vials, instead landing on the largest object. 

There was a pair of shoes, more like boots really. Hermione picked them up gingerly, feeling their sturdy weight. A note attached to it read the words: _for walking_. She read over this a few more times, coming to the conclusion that walking daily would probably be a part of her new schedule. 

Behind her, Wiply popped into the room, holding a tray of food. 

She hurried over, carrying the tray high above her head, but the house elf was so small that the tray still barely reached Hermione's hips. 

Glad for a reason to turn away from the parcel, Hermione reached over to assist the little elf. 

Once the tray was on the table, Hermione uttered a small thanks and returned to inspecting the contents of the parcel. But to her surprise, the Wiply continued to stand expectantly by Hermione side, staring intently at her tray. 

"Uh... yes, Wiply?" 

"Miss Granger is to drink one potion a day until she is fertile!" said Wiply, her huge eyes flicked towards the numerous vials still laying the parcel. 

"I know, I saw the no-"

"Wiply needs to see that it is done!" she continued, bouncing urgently on the balls of her feet. 

Hermione sighed resignedly, judging from the bulging of Wiply's tennis ball shaped eyes, Hermione knew that she wouldn't budge until she drank the contents of the vial. 

The vial was small, but she could feel the liquid's warmth emanating through the thin glass. Hermione wanted to get it over quickly, knowing that even if she prolonged it as much as possible, she would still have to drink it anyway. 

Unstopping the flask, Hermione raised it to her lips and drank it in one mouthful. Thankfully, unlike other potions she had become accustomed to, it didn't taste bad. In fact, a warm, pleasant sensation immediately radiated down from her throat to the rest of her body. 

Seeing that every last drop had been drunk, Wiply ducked her head politely and vanished from the room. 

The effects of the daily potion began to become evident over the next few days. At first, Hermione was determined to ignore the symptoms and insist to herself that it was just placebo, but they gradually became too noticeable.

Her breasts became tender and sore, there was a constant annoying abdominal pan, and she was the most bloated she had ever been in her life. 

Meanwhile the house elves' food and tolerance towards Hermione had improved considerably. It was probably because prior to the meeting with the Healer, the elves had treated her with the same respect as they would a dog.

Though grateful Hermione was for the upgrade in food and treatment, she was forced to follow a strict daily routine in order to make up for a year of malnourishment. 

Every day after breakfast, Hermione was taken outside into the gardens to walk around and get sun. Once lunch was over, she was whisked back into the manor to learn etiquette and how to 'act' during copulation. After two hours or so, Hermione was free to go back to her room, eat dinner and wait to start the process all over again. 

The lessons were utter humiliation, listening to different death eaters tell her how to speak and behave. 

It was bad enough that she had the inhibitor searing into her arm every time she wanted to shout or be angry, but now she had to go through excruciatingly long hours of awful lessons and strict schedules. 

The days went by slowly, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from checking the amount of time she had left until she had to face Malfoy. 

"Granger, look at me when I'm speaking to you!" snapped the trainer. They had finally reached the day where Hermione was properly ovulating, but she still had one final lesson before she would be forced to be fucked by Malfoy for the next five days. 

The trainer for today was short and portly, she was wearing plain beige robes, not unlike the ones the Healers wore. In addition to her plain appearance, she had the unmistakable quality of a bulldog with her squished face and pudgy neck that reminded Hermione distinctly of Umbridge. 

Hermione learnt about the purpose of these trainers with small snippets of information that would occasionally slip out from them. Apparently, the trainers were used instruct all of the fertile slaves like Hermione and indoctrinate them into the New World's belief system. 

It was all so disgusting. 

They had taken away so many young girls freedom, and they had to go a step further and trap them for life. Used to be some sort of sick breeding machines. 

At one point, Hermione thought that this fate was probably worse than death. She had no foreseeable way to escape. No way to even fight.

"Granger!" 

She was whipped right back into reality with the sharp voice of the trainer. 

"Sorry, Ma'am." said Hermione obediently, the words escaping her lips before she could even think for herself. 

"Right, that will be all for today. As today is the first of your ovulation, you will be expected in Mr. Malfoy's room at nine pm sharp. You will wait in his antechamber at eight forty five. Don't be late." 

Hermione hesitated, but recognised the dismissal. She mechanically dipped her head respectfully towards the trainer, and walked past her into the hallway leading to her room. 

Once Hermione was completely sure she wasn't being eyed by the trainer or the numerous portraits lining the walls, she sank down into her bed and stifled the sobs that threatened to break the surface. 

She took a deep breath and stopped hiccoughing enough to sit up straight. She glanced up at the clock. 5:45pm. She had three hours. 

The lessons that were drilled in her mind for the past week came back to her instinctively. 

_Wash._

_Get changed._

_Look presentable._

Hermione stood up unconsciously, her previous fears sliding further away as she let her body do the work and her mind go blank. 

Once she returned from the bathroom, her hands numbly found pulled open her drawers and found the set of clothes designated for these nights. 

Thankfully, it was pretty much the same as the rest of the dresses, she didn't have to wear some outrageous costume and humiliate herself further. But, although the differences weren't too noticeable, they stung Hermione like a slap to the face. 

The long skirt of the dress had a fold in it running across from the waist, not unlike the folds of a wrap dress. It was so that she would be easily accessible. Malfoy could pull aside the fabric whenever he wanted. The top of the dress had a wide neckline, so that if needed, the top could be effortlessly pulled down. 

Hermione willed herself not to think of it as she pulled on the dress. Finally done getting ready, she looked over at her tray of discarded dinner and the last vial of potion accompanying it. She probably would throw up if she had anything now. 

Knowing that Wiply would sense if she hadn't finished the potion, she strode over and knocked back the drink. 

She waited for the strange, hot sensation dissipate and she turned to sit on her bed. 

Her eyes automatically flicked to the clock again. 8:25pm. 

Dragging her eyes from the ticking clock, she stared down at the fidgeting hands in her lap. 

She could feel her fingers pressing nervously together, but she felt separate from her body. As if she was looking through her eyes in a backwards telescope. 

Her eyes snapped back up to look at the clock. 8:35pm. Ten minutes. 

Her heart skipped a beat, how was time going by so quickly? 

 _crack._  

Hermione stood up hastily, and smoothed the front of her dress distractedly. 

"Wiply?" 

"Hello, Miss Granger!" 

"I-um-" 

"I will take you to Mr. Malfoy's room now" said Wiply. Hermione almost laughed, Wiply said that line so cheerily, it almost made it seem normal. 

Wiply appeared to have taken her silence as agreement and hurried out of the room. She held back back for a moment, wanting desperately to run out the door and out of the manor and never look back. But the inhibitor anchored her to the room, and made her obediently follow Wiply down the winding halls. 

Hermione barely ventured out of the west wing where her room resided, she didn't want to accidentally bump into Lucius or Malfoy. 

They walked in tense silence, the portraits on the walls occasionally following her through the other paintings or throwing taunts her way. Hermione was used to hearing sneers from other people from her years in Hogwarts and during the War. 

But this was different, then she had power and control, now, their cruel insults felt like a raw nerve. And however much she tried to keep her head up and stare ahead, she couldn't help but wonder if they were right. 

By the time they had reached the other end of the Manor, Wiply was breathing heavily, the walk was so long. Hermione's heart pounded deafeningly in her ear and she was beginning to involuntarily shake. 

Hermione looked down at Wiply as she faced the enormous double doors. 

The house elf looked up at her, something that looked like an expression of pity flashed across her face briefly. She gave her one final look, bowed deeply, and vanished. 

A shaky hand reached out and clutched the brass doorknob, pressing on it as quietly as possible, Hermione slipped into the rather large antechamber and stood uncertainly to the side of the room. 

The room leading to the master bedroom was just as beautiful as the rest of the Manor, except containing far less decorations or ornate furniture.

Hermione wondered if Malfoy chose to decorate his chambers this way; as there were countless books lining the walls and Hermione had never seen him pick up a book during their time in Hogwarts. But then her eyes landed on the small tray table that held numerous bottles of alcohol and crystal glasses, and Hermione believed it. 

She scanned the rows of shelves, searching for a clock; not wanting to be surprised by Malfoy's sudden appearance and finally found the small wrist watch that she had seen Malfoy wear days before. 

It was placed delicately on a side table. The foggy surface swirled slightly as she peered over it. It reminded Hermione of the surface of a pensieve with it's not quite liquid, not quite gas quality. 

Her brows furrowed, _why did he leave his watch here?_  Hermione didn't peg Malfoy as careless. 

Looking down at the watch again, Hermione wondered if it was some form of a pensieve, to hold memories and thoughts. But as Hermione peered furtively at it's surface, wondering the time, it changed and formed into a clock face. 

_8:50pm_

Hermione recoiled from the clock face as if it had burned her. Her neck stiffening as she backed away into the corner of the antechamber. 

10 minutes. 

Her stomach churned with mounting anxiety and dread, her spine prickling with fear. The sudden urge to smash through the windows and sprint away from the manor rose again, making the inhibitor burn in her arm. 

Despite the amount of panic increasing in her chest, she didn't dare look at it again, knowing that counting the seconds would only make her panic more. 

And she definitely didn't want Malfoy to see that he had gotten to her. 

The door clicked. 

Hermione steeled herself and stilled her shaking. 

The tall figure of Malfoy stalked into the room, his dark travelling cloak obscuring everything but his head and neck. Reminding Hermione eerily of the overgrown bat like quality she always saw in Snape. 

For a moment, Hermione thought he hadn't seen her, maybe she could just stay silent against the bookshelves and he would forget about tonight. 

But to her dismay, his cold, grey eyes turned and rested on her. 

Hermione understood now why Healer Tarren had grown so fearful when Malfoy stared at her. 

His eyes were completely devoid of any warmth or life. His face was just as emotionless. 

As she stared back, unblinkingly into his face, she could see the amount of death and violence he's caused in the depths of his grey irises. 

The fleeting moment passed, and he strode away from her into his room. 

She could hear the sound of his cloak being unfastened and thrown into a closet. 

When he returned back into the antechamber he was unfastening the buttons on his collar while with the other hand, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. 

Hermione remained motionless in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible as he noisily poured himself a glass of firewhisky. 

He raised the crystal glass to his lips, glaring at Hermione in the corner of his eye as he downed the amber fluid. Placing it back onto the tray, he slowly turned to face Hermione fully. 

"The trainers really did a number on you, Granger." he said Mockingly. 

Hermione clenched her jaw, feeling her teeth grind against each other. 

He continued to survey Hermione in silence, his nose wrinkling so marginally she wouldn't have noticed it if she wasn't staring directly at him. 

Malfoy picked up his watch and glanced at the surface. 

"It's nine. Get on the bed" said Malfoy, his voice hardening slightly. He gave her a look of expectation. 

At this look, Hermione's inhibitor burned, causing her legs to walk obediently towards the next room. At this movement, Hermione felt ashamed and betrayed by her body's traitorous response. 

Through the torturous hours of training, they had ingrained all of the proper movements into Hermione. Though she didn't want to admit it, she was thankful that she didn't have to think too much as she pulled herself onto the edge of the bed. 

The bed was king sized, it was pretty plain. Two, dark sage green pillows sat at the head, with a simple identical duvet spread across the top. 

She pulled her skirt up slightly so that her legs could kneel up onto the bed. Her knees sunk heavily into the soft bed, but she barely noticed this as she was putting in all her effort to still her shaking. 

Hermione settled herself onto her back, face up, close to the edge of the bed. Her wrists were placed on either side of her head. 

She could hear Malfoy stepping closer to the bed. 

She was breathing heavily, trying to swallow the lump that had reformed in her throat. 

"Get closer to the edge of the bed." 

Hermione scooted her body towards the edge so that her legs dangled vulnerably off the bed. 

Malfoy was now right up at the bed. She was almost surprised that he couldn't hear her heart beating against her ribcage, it sounded so loud. 

Hermione's body jerked in shock when she felt Malfoy push her knees open a bit. He hesitated, and then pulled her skirt to the side. 

Her breath caught in her throat. The feeling of the cold air stung her legs, but she couldn't do anything. He didn't even have to restrain her. She turned her face to the side, focusing intently at the small threads of the sheets instead of the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

The air around them seemed to have stilled and it became impossibly quiet. Her ears strained vainly to hear any sound. 

But never, until this moment, had Hermione felt herself to be so fatally weakened, vulnerable, and exposed, as though this final act would be the thing that finally broke her. 

Hermione didn't want to think about how the Order (however many were left) would respond if they found out that she was going to be with Draco Malfoy, the right hand of Voldemort. 

Unwillingly, her eyes flicked back briefly towards the face of Malfoy. His expression was a mixture of contempt and something else she couldn't read. 

And then without warning, he pushed himself inside her.

Hermione let out a choked out sob, unable to stifle it as it rose up and caught her unawares. At this strangled sound, Malfoy hesitated briefly before continuing his movements. 

One hand gripped the bedposts so tightly, she could see the white of his knuckles. 

It became harder for her to breath, like someone had reached into her chest and was squeezing her lungs as tightly as possible. Her vision blurred with tears. 

His movement became more erratic and rough. Hermione braced herself as he came. 

He stilled for a moment, and then wrenched himself away from her. She heard him mutter cleansing charms as he buckled his belt again. 

Hermione lay uncertainly on her back, silent sobs making their way up from her chest. But she didn't dare make a sound, her teeth grinding painfully in order to suppress her weeping. 

She adjusted her dress and sat up on the bed, still shaking. 

Malfoy turned back round from the bar and seemed disgusted that she was still in his room. 

"leave." said Malfoy, he said it softly but Hermione couldn't deny the sound of anger creeping up in his voice. 

Hermione stood in the middle of his room for only a second, trembling, but jumped when he spoke once more. 

" _Now!_  " 

Hermione flinched, scared that he was about to hurl the crystal glass he held in his hand at her, and fled the room. 

 


	6. The Message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this update was kind of late, I was trying to write a larger chapter!  
> Will try to keep up from now! Please let me know if I've made any errors or mistakes!

She was barely able to push open the heavy door with her trembling hands. Sobs finally rising up and breaking the surface. Malfoy's harsh voice echoed in her head, making her stumble and panic even more. 

The tears came before she could stop them, boiling hot and dripping in fat drops down her face. She wanted to wipe them off, but she found that she didn't have the strength to raise her arms. 

Hermione staggered into the hallway, a hand on the wall to support her. It was completely dark when she entered the huge corridor, moonlight barely shedding light onto the path. 

She continued walking down the hallway, barely knowing where she was going because of the thick tears obscuring her vision. Though she knew Wiply would come immediately if she called, Hermione couldn't find her voice, her sobs coming out as just deep shuddering gasps that racked her chest. 

Then as she was stumbling slowly through the hall, Hermione could feel hot liquid begin to seep through her legs. Hermione froze against the wall, a new wave of despair piercing through her body. 

She wanted so badly to reach down and wipe the awful trickling feeling away, but even thinking about touching that area made her panic. 

Hermione walked over unseeingly to a random corner. Chest heaving as if she had just ran an entire marathon. Her legs folded underneath her and she wrapped her arms around herself while tears slid down her face onto her dress. 

It definitely more than a few minutes before Hermione could calm herself down in order to find the way back to her room, her chest spasming now and then. 

She gulped and pulled herself up into a standing position. She recognised vaguely that she must be leaving north wing where Malfoy's chambers were. But as she continued walking her surroundings slowly became less and less familiar. 

With increasing apprehension, Hermione began to worry that she was in the South wing, the only place Malfoy specifically told her not to venture. 

She began drawing short, rapid breaths again as she tried to still her sobbing.

Hermione didn't understand - she had seen and endured worse things; she was a medic and leader during the War. She'd seen her own friends die in her arms as she failed to heal them, she'd endured countless hours of torture, grief and pain. She had been through worse than she had ever thought she would have to. 

But this, this struck something in Hermione deeper than nothing had ever before. 

Hermione dithered on the spot, looking desperately for a way out. She winced, feeling her inhibitor burn again. 

But this time it felt different, it was a cold pain that permeated through to her bones. Hermione felt a deep sadness spread to her chest.

What was the inhibitor telling her to do? 

Right as Hermione had paused quizzically to speculate the cause of the strange pain, 

A viselike grip closed itself around her arm. Her heart lurched.

She whirled around, panic engulfing her mind once again. Bracing herself for the cold eyes of Malfoy. 

But it wasn't. 

The figure loomed over her, long hair hanging over their face. She couldn't quite make out their features; the little moonlight that slipped through the windows was blocked by their silhouette. 

Tears were beginning to prick her eyes again, their hot, putrid breath becoming unbearable. 

"P-Please, I didn't do anything-" She breathed, her voice breaking. "plea-" 

" _Shut up!_ " they hissed, their grip tightening even more, causing Hermione to gasp in pain. 

The moonlight shifted and threw the figure's face into harsh relief. Jarring, crude lines were etched into his face. His long, white blonde hair hanging limp over his face. His eyes glittering fiercely. 

Lucius Malfoy. 

Hermione's stomach dropped. He was unrecognisable; emaciated, the bones of his face jutting out against his yellowish skin. 

Hermione remembered the last time she had seen him, his wife had just been killed. She was a casualty, something the Order didn't intend to happen, but it was something that Lucius had become obsessed with. 

He became reckless and unstable, blaming Narcissa's death specifically on Remus. Remus hadn't killed her, she was killed in an explosion along with Order members and Death Eaters alike. 

But that didn't matter to Lucius. 

So, consumed with guilt and grief, he targeted Lupin during every fight, throwing all caution aside and even going against Voldemort's plans to kill him. 

She remembered clearly when Remus died. Sadly, that moment was seared into her brain, haunting her every night and flitting across her shut eyelids. 

Lucius had captured Remus, unbeknownst to the rest of the Order, and tortured him endlessly. He chose not to use the cruciatus curse, instead torturing him by hand so that his mind wouldn't slip, but so that his werewolf blood would heal him just enough to start all over again. 

The Order found out days later, Lucius had returned the flayed, unrecognisable, barely alive Remus outside his family's home. So that Tonk's and Teddy would find him. 

Hermione remembered the horrible feeling when she was summoned to see if he could be healed. They all knew that there was nothing that could be done, all she could do was put him out of his misery. 

She winced from the painful memory that had been ripped from the depths of her mind. She could still hear six year old Teddy screaming for his father as she was forced to end his pain. 

" _I've been hoping to run into you, Mudblood._ " 

"Please- Please, I n-need to get b-back." sobbed Hermione, terror gripping her just as tightly as Lucius gripped her arm. 

He whipped his arm back and slapped Hermione across the face. The force of it alone made Hermione stumble backwards and fall over. She reached up to feel where her head had split when he'd hit her with his ringed hand. Blood began to drip into her eyes, obscuring her vision once more. 

His haughty laugh rang out somewhere high above her. She scrambled back, trying, and failing to stand up. 

"How pathetic. Take away your magic and you become a powerless little muggle." spat Lucius, he strode over to the corner Hermione had pushed herself into. 

She pressed herself closer to the wall, but her efforts to stay away from Lucius failed, as he gave a nonchalant flick of his wand and Hermione was yanked up by her hair to eye level. He reached to the inside of his robes, pulling out a short knife that gleamed against the moonlight. 

Hermione tried to kick at him, her hands struggling desperately to unclasp the invisible hold on her head. But just as she thought of lashing out, her legs went limp, not allowing her to move. 

He let out a derisive laugh that sounded more like a bark and pressed the blade against her stomach. 

"I wonder, do mudbloods look different on the inside?" 

"N-No! P-Please, you're not a-allowed-" said Hermione, her eyes staring helplessly at the blade pressed, threateningly on her torso. But in the back of her head, she almost felt relieved - maybe if Lucius killed her now, everything would be over and no Order secrets would be revealed. 

"Oh, don't worry, I'll just heal you back up again." he said mockingly. His eyes flared menacingly again and he tightened his grip on the blade. 

Hermione screwed her eyes shut, waiting in fear for the moment he would rip into her flesh. 

Suddenly, the invisible hold on her was released and she crumpled to the floor. 

She opened her eyes and saw Malfoy yanking back his father. His face was contorted and was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was about to kill his own father right then and there. 

He shoved Lucius down onto the ground and jabbed his wand into his face. 

"You _idiot_ , what do you think the Dark Lord would do if found out that you gutted the Mudblood?"

" _I - don't - care._ " hissed Lucius. His tone was resigned, defeated. And for a fleeting moment, when Hermione looked at Lucius she almost felt sad for him. It passed quickly though, as she would never forget the pain he inflicted on The Order. 

Lucius stood up to face his son, brushing his limp hair from his face and attempting to straighten his robes. 

Malfoy looked down on him, his expression changing briefly to pity. His own father, wasting away before his eyes, completely unrecognisable from the man he used to revere. 

He turned from them and stalked away, back into the darkness. 

Malfoy stood still, staring at the spot his father had disappeared into for a few seconds. Seeming to recollect himself, his eyes turned back into the cold, unfeeling voids that Hermione was used to. 

He looked at the copious amounts of blood dripping down her face. 

" _Evanesco!_  " he snapped with a careless flick of his wand. Sight abruptly came back to her as the blood on her face vanished. She raised her hand up to her head, noticing how he hadn't bothered to heal the cuts. 

"What are you doing in the South wing? Did you hope Lucius would kill you?"

He let out a sharp laugh.

"How pitiful. The Dark Lord has placed you under my supervision, and no matter what, however many suicide contemplations you have, I will stop it. You forget your importance, the Dark Lord needs whatever memories you have locked up, and _nothing_ will inhibit that." 

Hermione stared at him stonily. The shuddering in her chest, subsiding slightly. Finding courage she didn't know she had left, she spoke, 

"You're - disgusting, Malfoy. To t-think that I ever p-pitied you in Hogwarts." spat Hermione, taking all her strength to force out her words against the burning inhibitor. 

His eyebrows raised a tiny fraction, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smirk. In that short time, he looked like the same naive, stuck up, haughty boy she had seen almost everyday for six years. 

But the moment ended, the amused expression once again being obscured by his steel mask. 

Malfoy strode closer to her and reached to grab her arm, Hermione unable to cringe away from his touch. The sharp bruise that Lucius left panged painfully again as he gripped her arm tightly. 

He dragged her through the halls and practically threw her into her room. 

She clumsily stepped over to the bed, her hands grasping at the mattress to support her weight. 

He waited in silence as Hermione uncoordinatedly pushed herself up to a standing position. 

She raised her head to meet his steely eyes, attempting to bring up her strength like barriers around her. 

Hermione could detect the faint trace of a smirk on his face. 

She instantly snapped, all of her suppressed anger and outrage from the past year hurling up her chest at his apparent nonchalant attitude towards her torment.

Heat swept down her hands, her arms clenched tightly. She couldn't think. Anger was buzzing in her brain. 

Before Hermione could even register the sudden movement shooting through her muscles, she had turned sharply and reached for the lamp on the bedside table behind her, whipping it around to launch at his smug face. 

Just as her head snapped round to face him, his hand had seized her wrist with brute strength and yanked her onto the bed, his face mere inches from hers. The delayed inhibitor burned dully and the lamp rolled out of her hand and off the bed, falling with a resounding smash on the floor. 

Her fury was quickly replaced by fear once again as her thoughts finally caught up with her body. 

All amusement in his face vanished. 

"Did you _think_ it was going to be that easy? " he snarled through his bared teeth.

His hands were still clamped painfully tight around her wrists, she could feel the bones beginning to strain, on the brink of cracking. 

Her breath came out in shallow gasps; she didn't dare speak, her mind whirling with confused and terrified thoughts. 

_Why didn't the Inhibitor-?_

_What is he going to do?_

Her mind ran rampant in the brief silence Malfoy left her in. His eyes were blazing in unveiled fury, flicking across her face as he studied her. 

He pinned both her wrists under his left hand, reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. 

It stabbed under her chin, tilting her head up so that she properly looked at him. 

 

His wand wavered there for a few moments. 

Hermione screwed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the oncoming attack. 

But it never came. 

The prodding sensation under her chin vanished and her wrists were released.

The strange, cold pain spread from her arm into her chest, making her heart lurch uncomfortably. For some reason, at this sensation Hermione's eyes felt inexplicably drawn to Malfoy's. 

Her eyes flicked warily up to his. Steel grey glared back, turmoil hidden in the depths.

Hermione realised suddenly that his face was still only mere inches from her own, she could still feel his knee carefully placed in between her legs, pinning her down with her dress like how a butterfly would be pinned in a frame. 

Seeming to gather himself, the expressions became carefully obscured again. He straightened his collar and sleeves like a nervous tick, smoothing out the tiniest creases to maintain his calm and collected facade. 

Flicking out his watch once again, he stared at the face. Seeing something in the swirling depths that Hermione was unable to decipher. 

"Your inhibitor will be checked again...Wiply will escort you back to your room the rest of the nights." 

And once again, Hermione was thrust into silence, more questions unanswered and more broken than ever before. 

\-----

The rest of Hermione's fertile days came and went. Each time, she would stare at the bare ceiling, searching for cracks or peeling paint while her eyes couldn't help but gloss over. But it was always the same, clinical and perfect, just like the rest of the Manor. 

After every session, Wiply escorted through the darkened corridors back to her tiny room. They never spoke. But sometimes, when Hermione could feel crusting between her thighs or throbbing in her head, and she would have to stop and grip onto the walls to support her sobbing and heaving, Wiply would reach up and squeeze her hand, sending shots of warmth up her arm and into her chest. 

It was the only think that allowed Hermione to get back to her room each and every night, the lingering warmth from Wiply's hand occasionally mixing with the strange pang from the inhibitor that followed each session. 

Hermione woke up the fifth and final day mechanically and looked over at the enchanted parchment: 

 _3rd September._  

However, despite it being the last day that she would have to 'perform', Hermione felt no joy or relief. Simply, an aching hollow feeling reverberating through her tired body. 

Breakfast was sent as usual, but this time it held something extra. 

The Daily Prophet was tucked neatly under a bowl, the shifting photographs half covered by the porcelain. 

Eyes locking onto the wonderful text and reading material, Hermione completely disregarded the hot food beside it and lunged forward to grab the paper, her mind starved for information. 

She skimmed the stark black text: 

_Corrupt Minister of Magic steps down, new minister to be announced soon._

_Defence sector successful in catching toxic blood traitors within ministry._

_The remains of the Resistance are dwindling, peace to the Wizarding world at last!_

Hermione scoffed out loud at the headlines, finding it difficult to believe that anyone wouldn't understand that this was all just Death Eater propaganda. Reading desperately to find familiar names, Hermione sped through the pages. But, thankfully she found no deaths of resistance members, knowing that if anymore members of the Resistance had died, they would definitely publicise it. 

Hermione flipped the paper over to get to the other news sections, almost dropping it when she read the largest headline: 

_Right hand of Voldemort, Draco Malfoy set to appear in oncoming Soiree with new wife, Hermione Granger._

Her stomach lurched. 

_In the oncoming Soiree celebrating the anniversary of the end of the War, the new couple will be making their first appearance for the public. Healer Tarren, head of the auctioning and Odalisque efforts released a statement on the behalf of Malfoy, this Monday, confirming the rumours of relationship with the Mudblood. Hermione Granger, once one of the head terrorist leaders of the Resistance, now has learned the errors in her ways and has had a change of heart. Showing how even hopeless members of society can change for the better. (story will continue on page 5)_

The paper shook in Hermione's hands, the edges of the sheet becoming crumpled and torn because of the involuntary clenching of Hermione's fists. Malfoy was mocking her, showing her that she had nothing left.

She felt violated in other ways Malfoy hadn't already done. They had taken her identity, all she was now was some bitch for another Death Eater. She loathed the ingenuity in the plan; without having to force their hand, they could extinguish the public's hope and coerce them into cooperating with the new Ministry. 

People would think that the resistance had died. And then without any support from the public, the Resistance _would_ die out. 

Hermione let that dark thought sink into her mind for a bit. Without anything else to do, all of her misgivings and doubts always bobbed back up to the surface. 

_no._

The Resistance would never die. 

She was still here. 

She was still breathing. Still alive. 

Even though the roaring flame of courage and bravery she used to have had now diminished. 

There would always still be a tiny spark. 

Wiply tapped lightly on her door. Ever since Wiply had begun escorting her back to her room every night, she knocked on the door every morning instead of popping right in. Though it was a tiny gesture, Hermione was eternally grateful that Wiply allowed her some semblance of privacy. 

"Miss, have you finished your meal?" said Wiply, one hand gripping the edge of the door while she poked her overlarge head and ears into the room. 

"er-" Hermione looked over at the completely full tray, the bowl of porridge cold and stagnant through her negligence. 

"Sorry, I'm - almost done. I'll take the potion in a bit." said Hermione hastily, scooting her chair noisily closer to the table so that she could properly dig into the food. The spoon scraped against the edge of the bowl, Hermione eager for Wiply's watchful eye to leave her with the paper a bit longer.  

"um- Master Snape is waiting for you, Wiply was told to send for you after you finish your meal." 

"Oh! I-uh, thank you, Wiply." said Hermione. Her brows had furrowed in a mixture of surprise and confusion. He was meant to examine her about a week ago, why was he coming now? Flicking her mind back to finishing her food, she obediently spooned the cold oatmeal into her mouth, mind working furiously on the reason for Snape's visit. He had asked her if there was a plan when she was first being interrogated, maybe he was still a part of the Order? But he couldn't be, he killed Dumbledore. 

Uncertainty lingered on the edges of Hermione's thoughts. The gaps in her memories just large enough so that she couldn't decipher the strange puzzle being laid out in front of her. She could practically taste the answer on her tongue, she just needed to find it before Voldemort did. 

Hermione stood up out of her chair, placing the empty vial she had just finished back onto the tray and turned to face the door. 

"I presume he's in the drawing room?" said Hermione, her dress being smoothed out meticulously by her own nervous hands. 

"Yes, Master Malfoy is also expecting you." 

She wordlessly opened the door so that Hermione could walk past her and into the hall. Wiply hobbled quickly ahead of her, leading the way. Although it was unnecessary since Hermione had already studied the paths to the exits of the Manor so scrupulously that there was no need. 

Wiply entered the drawing room before Hermione, announcing her arrival. Hermione followed shortly after her, unconsciously inclining her head low at the two waiting men. 

After quickly greeting them, her eyes raised back to survey the room. 

Snape was reclining back on one of the single sofa chairs, his hand clutched onto a short glass of dark liquid, the ice had melted already, small bits still floating in the amber depths. Hermione studied him, noticing the stress that lined his face, making him look more gaunt and drawn than before. Despite his slightly haggard appearance, he looked calm and stared knowingly at Hermione. 

Draco, however, looked crisp and clean, his robes perfectly aligned as always. But, he was scowling intently at Snape, trying and evidently failing to conceal the waves of annoyance that rolled off him. 

Hermione took note of how he wasn't sitting, instead standing rigidly against the mantle of the fire place. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest, one hand gripping an identical glass, noticeably more empty than Snape's. 

Snape looked over at Malfoy, and evidently Malfoy took this as his cue to leave as he briskly took one last drink from his glass and swiftly walked past Hermione out into the hall. 

Snape's dark eyes followed Malfoy's movements out the door until he was clearly out of view. 

"I take it you saw the headline of today's paper?" said Snape. 

"Yes." replied Hermione in the straightest voice she could manage, but knowing in the back of her head it was pointless to attempt to conceal her emotions; Snape was well versed in Ligilimency. 

"So you understand your role?" 

"...Yes."

Humiliation crept high into her cheeks, giving her a slight flush that was only barely obscured by her too-long bangs. He continued to study her, his fingertips grazing the rim of the glass.

Hermione continued to stand at the edge of the room, the silence seemed to slowly press into her ears. 

"... Have the _sessions_ with Malfoy prompted any memories to exhibit themselves?... I will know if you lie." 

There was a pause. 

"One." 

His eyes perked up in interest. 

"I saw a face... and I heard my own voice and someone else's... I'm not too sure. I think I said something about defences being in place" 

There was a pause. 

"Is that the truth?" said Snape.

"You're welcome to check" retorted Hermione bitterly. 

He seemed to consider using ligilimency on her, but decided -

"There's no need." 

There was a hint of disappointment in his voice as he stood up. His 'examination' or whatever he was here for was evidently over. He walked over to the door, pausing when he reached Hermione to look down at her. 

"The Soiree is in six days...  _There is time_." His gaze pierced into her's at this final statement and he left.

Hermione grew puzzled once more, her mind immediately latching onto his words for analysing and scrutiny. 

There's time?

For what? 

\-----

When Hermione returned to her room, she was already racking her brain for answers to Snape's cryptic message. 

The possibility that he could still be a part of the Order seemed more likely now, but without knowing for sure Hermione wasn't going to take any chances and straight up ask him. It would compromise both of them if she was right - even if Voldemort couldn't use ligilimens on Snape, he could easily use it on her. 

She had six days, before the soiree. But Hermione had not idea why that deadline was so crucial.

She ran through a short list of what she knew about that date: It was the anniversary of the end of the War and it had been two years, possibly all of the Death Eaters and their supporters would be there, and it was being dramatically publicised. Hermione paused, baffled as to what was so important about the Soiree. 

Maybe this particular anniversary was special for some other reason than the cause of celebration. Was Voldemort planning something on this date? 

Her pacing around the room halted. 

It was on the 9th of september, she had already been captured by then. But that didn't account for the more than a year of her life locked away in her mind. 

Her groan of frustration pierced the empty silence of the room, if she was meant to recover her own memories in that time, how would she be able to hide that from Voldemort? By doing so, she would only endanger the Resistance. 

Had she done this to herself? She couldn't remember studying mind barriers in the War, but she was certain that there was a possibility that the 'defences' she spoke about in her memory could be the barriers. 

Hermione let out a sharp breath of exasperation and put on her boots, hoping that maybe the clear air would help organise her thoughts. 

With one house elf obediently by her side, Hermione walked far into the Manor's gardens, the rolling hills and bare trees dotting the landscape, only emphasising the bleakness of the estate. 

Despite the crisp hedges and occasional wandering peacock, the nature surrounding the Manor still felt sterile. Reminding Hermione of plastic and all round fake ness. 

Once the air began to sting her cheeks and freeze her bones, Hermione wandered reluctantly back into the warmth of the Manor. She would much rather stay outside where she had some sad imitation of freedom, than go back to the rigid mansion, but once it became dangerously cold, her inhibitor burned and lured her back into the confines of her room. 

The rest of Hermione's day passed to no avail, she continued to pour over the newspaper and pace around in deep thought. But her mind was continually dragged back to the fear that even if she did learn something, Voldemort or Malfoy would rip it from her mind and use it to end the Resistance once and for all. 

Finally, her train of thought was interrupted once again by the timid knocking of Wiply at 8:35. 

"Miss Granger, Wiply will take you now." 

"ok." 

Her voice although empty, was less hollow now that she knew something was happening. That Snape could possibly still be an Order member. She trudged along the halls, glancing sideways at the spot Lucius had cornered her and threatened to cut open her stomach. 

Just one more night, and it'll be over for a bit. That's what Hermione told herself every night for the previous four days, but she refused to let her mind wander further ahead, to the months after that, and the years after that. 

Once Malfoy had entered the room, Hermione said nothing and walked over to stand by the bed until he told her to get on it. 

He clattered noisily by the bar, Hermione noticed with a small sinking feeling that he was angrier than usual (if that was possible). She shrunk back more against the bedpost, hoping that he wouldn't take out his anger on her. 

But to her surprise, when he turned to look at her, his eyes were narrowed with the unmistakable look of remorse or guilt. 

They looked back at one another for a few seconds, Hermione could almost forget that she was there to be fucked and not just standing in Malfoy's room having a conversation. 

The moment broke when he advanced on her,

"Get on the bed." 

Hermione gave a faint nod and focused on carefully getting on the bed without shaking. 

Her inhibitor panged sharply, sending cold into her chest. It took all of her restraint not to grab her arm, instead brushing it off as if she was just straightening her sleeves. 

This time when he pushed himself into her, he was slower, less painful. She didn't have to breath sharply to make sure no sounds of struggle escaped. But her eyes still pricked with tears, a dark sadness seeping through her bones, emanating slightly from the inhibitor. 

His body rocked against hers, but it felt as if there was nothing between them except for the cold and tense air that was so palpable, Hermione imagined she could reach out and touch it. 

Finally, he let out a low growl that was barely audible and he finished. 

He turned away from her, his face shrouded darkly with the few stray, white-blond hairs that hung over his face. 

Hermione lay still on the bed, lightly pulling her skirt back over her exposed body while her chest rose and fell in time with her frantic breaths. He didn't ask her to leave, letting her gather herself on the bed. 

Hermione felt weak with exhaustion and pain, but still managed to push herself unsteadily onto her forearms. She scanned the now empty room, Malfoy could be heard doing something in the adjoining bathroom, the sound of a shower faucet turning on. 

Taking this as her cue to leave, Hermione wobbled over to the door, trying her best not to sprint away from the room. But the warm liquid between her legs was dark and undeniable, and she gritted her teeth in disgust with them.

Wiply didn't say anything as she brought her back to the room, but was indiscrete when she looked over at Hermione now and then. Looking deeply into her face to check for signs of an oncoming panic attack. 

Hermione was grateful that there was someone who remotely cared for her, however skewed the reasons behind that were. But was greatly relieved when she was back _in_ her room alone. 

She crawled up onto her bed and curled into herself, drawing the duvet around her like protection as tears threatened to spill over her wet eyes. 

Nameless forebodings crept up as she lay curled in the dark: she tried to ward them away by reciting potions, spells, yet they came at Hermione relentlessly as they did after every session. Something about the way her skirt was yanked back to reveal her exposed but 'ready' body and how she could do nothing about it but be complacent as he came in her, was so intensely degrading and humiliating. 

And it seemed to Hermione as she persistently tried to master her own fear and doubts, that the level of courage she had left would only decreases as time went on. Thinking specifically about the oncoming Soiree and the number of different ways the Death Eaters would think of humiliating her. 

 _...No_ , she whispered to herself, _don't think like that..._

Her head began to throb again. Hermione pressed into the nape of her neck with her hands, willing the pain to go away, worried that the pain would lead to another bout of unconsciousness. Even though dark thoughts swam in her head, she wanted to stay lucid, so that at any given moment, she could notice an opportunity. 

Suddenly a voice rang clear in her head. 

_"It's too risky, Hermione."_

Her vision became muddled and a shock of red merged with the drab grey of her room. 

It was Ron. 

_She was back in Grimmauld place, Ron, Harry and other Order members were stood around the dining table, it was littered with maps, rolls of parchment, empty wine bottles, discarded plates of food and empty bottles of ink._

_"He's right, Hermione, with what the state of the Ministry is now, we can't take any chances."_

_Hermione slammed her hand down on the table in frustration._

_"We don't **have**_ _any more chances, Harry! We've already thought this through, we have a failsafe!" said Hermione firmly, the hair that had been drawn neatly back into a braid was beginning to fly around her face._

_"You know that sooner or later, they're going to find our mole. If we delay this any longer, we risk compromising everything we've achieved!" she continued, her voice increasing in volume._

_She scanned the room. Kingsley had resigned himself to staring pointedly at Ron, Harry had dropped his gaze from Hermione, his hands splayed across the table and Ron was staring grimly back at Hermione. His brows were tensed in thought._

_Every since Hermione had to put Remus out of his misery, she became more drawn, for the first time, even blocking out Ron. Harry and the others didn't understand the pain that she felt, they didn't understand how many times she had to put fellow Resistance members out of their pain, all other options exhausted._

_After seeing the life leave Remus at the hands of Lucius, she couldn't deal with anymore deaths. She couldn't keep holding them close to her heart and vowing to avenge them; there were too many._

_Hermione thought back to when she pointed a killing curse at a Death Eater for the first time. Rodolphus Lestrange. But she couldn't, Harry had shoved her to the side just in time. When they had returned to their base, Harry had turned on her, shouting;_

_" **If we kill we'll be just as bad as them!** I can't -" _

_" **They will keep killing us as long as we keep letting them live!** I see the effects of their curses **every day,** I see Resistance members die for us - **for you** every day!" Snarled Hermione, the anger that she kept locked up and silent in every meeting bursting out of her mouth. But through her anger, she realised she crossed a line, touching a nerve Hermione knew was especially close to Harry's heart. _

_"I - I didn't mean - I'm sorry Harry -" stammered Hermione. Shame building in her mouth like bile. But he didn't say anything, light reflecting off his glasses and concealing his eyes from her._

_Ginny coughed, bringing all of them back to their senses. The memory of her and Harry's fight was pushed to the side._

_"I have the damage report."_

_"Thank you, Ginny" said Harry in a clipped voice. He took the roll of parchment from her and gave her hand a squeeze from behind the back of the chair._

_He unrolled the parchment and gave it a furtive look, his eyes giving away his grief._

_"...How many?" asked Tonks in a hollow voice from across the table, her hair had become a fixed shade of brown and grey ever since Remus died. She knew how hard it must have been for Hermione, and never held any anger towards her._

_But, Hermione could never bring herself to look at Tonks, not since Remus's death._

_Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his face. Looking at him now, Hermione could see the stress lining it prematurely. His thick unruly hair framing his face reminded Hermione of Sirius. The signs of pressure and strain were unmistakable on him, years of people's hopes all on him weighed him down and forced him to mature faster than anyone._

_"Too many."_

Hermione's vision swam once again, Harry's face fading from view, being replaced with her bedsheets being slowly illuminated by dawn, highlighting the start of her day all over again. And even though that new memory was tinged with anger and sadness, her heart panged with longing to stay in a time where the people she loved were still alive. 

 

 

 

 


	7. Champagne tears 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! My work was deleted and I forgot to have a backup :(

Hermione trudged along the perfectly cobbled path that lined the equally perfect grass. Since that she had 'consummated' her relationship, or whatever they had with Malfoy, the House elves seemed more lenient in letting her go off on her own. Hermione was glad, but their growing pity for her was certainly uncalled for. 

Her eyes scanned the gardens, thin trees dotted the horizon, looking bleak and dead even though it was already September. 

Though the late afternoon was calm and the sky was solid shade of grey, her mind was a hidden mess of plans and thoughts. 

The Soiree was that night, and she still hadn't deciphered Snape's cryptic message. 

At first, Hermione was certain that message held hope, but now that she had racked her brain and all of her limited resources for six days straight and found nothing, she began to think that it was just a cruel ruse to get her to trust Snape. 

But still, a minuscule kernel of assurance remained with her as she endured the endless hours of nothing in the Manor. 

A sharp gust of wind whipped across her face, her cloak unfurling along with it. 

Hermione hissed sharply, the unusual cold hitting suddenly against her exposed skin and cutting off her train of thought.

Determined to stay as long as she was allowed to in the gardens, Hermione left the cloak in the dirt and continued down the path, her shoulders curled inwards to ward off the relentless wind. 

If only she could have access to the beautiful library in Hogwarts that she missed so much. Hermione's heart ached for the seemingly endless rows of knowledge stacked neatly and precisely that awaited her everyday during her time in school. Hermione could almost feel the grain of parchment and paperbacks under her fingertips as she thought back wistfully. 

Clenching her hands tightly against her arms, Hermione reluctantly forced herself to look again over all related information that could possibly help her now. 

The Soiree was to celebrate the anniversary of the end of the War. 

The Lestrange family were to be holding it. 

All of the notable Death Eaters would be there as well. 

She and Malfoy were expected to make an appearance. 

Her mind stalled against that detail. Voldemort said that they were to put up a show for the public, but if the Resistance was dwindling as he said they were, why would they need to? The public was already compliant if the newspapers were somewhat truthful; there were no mentions of protests or any form of resistance at all. 

She stopped walking, feeling slightly warmed by her sudden thought. 

Maybe the Resistance was still fighting, but Voldemort's New Order wasn't reporting on that to make sure the public didn't get hope. If the some form of the Order was still out there, Voldemort definitely wouldn't publicise it. 

Her heart quickened, her thoughts beginning to draw connections more frantically than ever. 

When one of her memories came back, she had said the defences were in place if she were to be captured. And she _had_ been captured, so that would mean whatever plan she had come up with, it was still ongoing. 

It was strange thinking that she had planned something and didn't even know what it was, but simply knowing that she had come up with something was good enough for her. Hermione couldn't waste time doubting her abilities now, and pushed any inklings of doubt aside. 

Maybe that was what Snape was alluding to; the plan. Maybe he was just telling her this so that she would be mentally prepared for whatever was coming up. 

But- Hermione felt the cold rush back into her bones- Snape had betrayed the Order long before the War had properly began.

What reason would he have to help now? and there was no possible way he would have known anything about the Order's plans from then on, Hermione remembered his absence clearly.

The cold stung against her cheeks, making Hermione instantly regret abandoning her cloak. 

She braced herself against the wind once again, hunching her shoulders more so that her neck was somewhat shielded and turned back towards the Manor. 

Hermione walked quickly, the wind was picking up and she could see clouds rumbling their way closer to the estate. All the while, her eyes scanned the grass and hedges for the blood red fabric of her cloak, but she became increasingly more resigned when she couldn't find it. 

When she finally reached the porch, rain had begun to lightly beat down in heavy drops, landing thickly in her hair and shoulders. Grateful for the cover, Hermione quickly stepped under the cover of the porch, not noticing a new presence sitting and waiting. 

"You dropped this." 

Hermione whirled around to face the voice. 

Malfoy had obviously been waiting for some time, he had a familiar glass of amber liquid in one hand, while another splayed open the pages of _The Prophet._

He nodded his head to a red cloak draped over another chair and then turned his gaze back to the paper. Hermione had to stop herself from lunging forward and wrapping herself in the warm fabric, instead stretching a rigid arm as far as she could without moving closer to him and grabbed it. 

He looked up again and stared at her with a slightly amused look on his face, an eyebrow raised. She could almost hear his sarcastic, drawling voice in her head saying, _really?_  

"The Trainer is here for your fitting." he said, his eyes dragging back towards the paper. 

"My-wha- a fitting?" 

He laughed faintly, his eyes remaining on the page. 

"Yes, the Dark Lord wants you looking presentable. If you were to show up looking like you've been caged for months, I'm certain the public wouldn't believe that you have 'turned' willingly." he drawled, obviously bored by their conversation. 

A fitting. So that she would fit the look of being his wife. They had barely spoken over the course of the months she had arrived at the Manor, and even less so when he fucked her emotionlessly, and they were expected to pretend that they were deeply in love. Hermione could laugh if it wasn't for the fact that she was stuck being the New Order's puppet. 

"...How long will we have to keep this up?" said Hermione, the question slipping from her mouth before she could prevent it. 

He paused, his jaw visibly clenching. He folded the paper closed and placed it aside on the table. 

"I'm sure you've thought about this already." he said with a challenging tone.

Cold anger hung over him, Hermione could almost see it. Every word he spoke seemed to be infected with hidden rage that pierced into her chest. For some reason, though he didn't show it, Hermione could always feel the waves of disgust or anger roll off him and instil itself into her flesh. 

"I - suppose, until the public is thoroughly convinced and the Resistance is finally gone." said Hermione, she scanned his face intensely, looking for any sign or change that indicated anything. 

It remained impassive. 

"You forget that the Dark Lord still insists on recovering your memories, which requires that you be pregnant..." his nose wrinkled slightly in what Hermione could only guess was disgust. "

What makes you think the Resistance is alive at all now?" he said, interest peaking in his voice. He tilted his head quizzically. "You _have_ been reading the papers, haven't you?"  

"Well, yes. But, why would Voldemort be worried about recovering my memories at all if the Resistance is gone? I'm positive that some remain, however few." she continued, answering his questions automatically as if he had given her veratiserum. 

He seemed incrementally impressed by her answer, exhaling sharply through his nose. 

"I'm surprised that you could guess that, what with your mind being so broken." he sneered. 

"Maybe I'm not as broken as you think I am." said Hermione, lifting her head. 

He didn't respond for a moment, his steel eyes glinting as he studied her. 

"I guess we'll have to see." 

 

\-----

 

Shortly after their brief conversation, Malfoy brought her to one of the many living rooms of the Manor, a Trainer and multiple other witches and wizards stood waiting. 

He turned to leave the room but was stopped by the head Trainer. 

"Sorry- Tarren expressed that she wanted you to oversee the fitting..." 

"Tch. Then get on with it." he snapped, dropping himself onto a leather armchair. He scanned the room in obvious distaste, his eyes only briefly meeting with Hermione's. 

Hermione swallowed nervously and dithered on the spot. 

"Should I-" 

The Trainer grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and yanked her to the centre of the room, ignoring her question. The others quickly flocked to the Trainer's side, drawing wands, rolls of fabric and spools of measuring tape. 

Taking no care in not poking her with their needles, they quickly finished measuring her for her dress, moving on to a strange set of jewellery. 

the first trainer opened a suede box, a silver snake with heads on both ends lay curled in the centre, it's eyes gleaming with bright green emeralds. She lifted it delicately with her wand, making it writhe and twist in the air as it hovered closer to her head. 

As it neared, Hermione could almost feel the Dark magic that emanated from it, making her flinch and cringe away from it's ominous presence. From the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy raise his hand lazily. The Healer noticed this as well, pausing her movements to turn towards him.  

"What is it?" he asked. 

"It is not unlike the inhibitor, but it will allow you more control." 

"The inhibitor has been responding fine, why is this necessary?" he snapped. Hermione recalled when her inhibitor had stalled and she almost hit him, wondering if he had forgotten about that. 

"The- Healer Tarren and the Dark Lord insist that your first appearance as a couple go unhinged. May I remind you that the Lord's plan relies heavily on tonight's events-" 

"Fine." he snarled, his eyes darkened noticeably. "How does it work?"

"This piece - " she indicated towards the writhing metal snake, "- will connect to her mind, it will sync up with your own piece - the cufflinks. It will allow you to directly give her orders and influence her actions, the connection goes both ways. However, since the inhibitor already prevents her from performing magic, there is no way she can force the connection the other way. It's done with the same magic as the inhibitor, just more concentrated." 

She remained silent, allowing Malfoy to absorb the information.

Meanwhile, Hermione hungrily swallowed the information about the inhibitor, it began to make sense - whenever Malfoy had begun to get noticeably mad, she always began to feel the inhibitor burn and make her mad too. It was almost as if the connection only had a certain capacity to hold emotion, which was why when he got excessively angry, it would overflow and shift to her side. 

There was a connection. And it was controlled by the inhibitor in her arm - she would just need to find what Malfoy's side of the connection was and she could manipulate it. 

The newfound realisation rushed Hermione with focus and conviction. She had some sort of plan now. It took all of the energy she had to quash it down enough so that it wasn't revealed in her face. 

"We can test it now? To see if the two pieces sync - ?" said the Trainer, her wand raised again along with the twisting snake. It was small enough that when coiled it could fit in her palm, but it's constantly writhing form reminded her instantly of Nagini, and Hermione could almost feel the putrid, hot air of Voldemort's 'lair' when she thought of it. 

Malfoy immediately waved his hand again, cutting her off. 

"That won't be necessary. I expect that if nothing else needs to be done, I can be on my way." He stood, towering over the other witches and wizards and conjured up his travelling cloak. 

"I will be back at seven, have the - Mudblood prepared to leave by then." he finished with an air of finality and strode from the room, his shoes clicking on the floor as he left. 

The Trainer's eyes followed him until she could hear the familiar crack of dissaparation. When she was certain he was gone, she rounded on Hermione, all traces of formality vanishing. 

"Listen here, _Mudblood_. I realise that for some reason your survival is required for the Dark Lord, but don't think for a second that that will protect you. I'll remind you that your _people_ have sullied and ruined the Wizarding name. and many- _many_  still remember that, and will not hesitate to end your disgraceful existence once you are no longer needed." she spat at Hermione, spittle flying from her mouth. 

Hermione took note that the trainer didn't know that her memories were being examined regularly. She probably had no idea that her insubordination would be inspected by Malfoy at some point. It seemed that not all aspects of Voldemort's plan were being told to his Death Eaters. He didn't trust them. Still, even with his control over Europe expanding, he preferred to keep certain information to himself and his closest Death Eaters. 

Hermione stowed this information away in the back of her mind, wondering slightly what else he kept hidden from his followers.  

"I wouldn't count on that." Hermione replied coolly, straightening her back. The Gryffindor in her rose to the surface, but on the edges of her mind, she realised how true her words were. 

Once the memories were wrenched out of her head, Voldemort would probably begin to lose interest and wouldn't care if someone 'accidentally' hurt her. There would be nothing to stop people killing her - she was powerless. 

The other trainers teetered on the spot, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. 

The Trainer stared back at Hermione, seething. 

"You're just a glorified bitch, to be used and discarded." she retorted, nose wrinkling.

Hermione's inhibitor burned. She couldn't respond. The Trainer looked down at her again, satisfied at her silence.

Then, seeming to tire of their interaction, she waved over to the other wizards. 

"Finish up here. Healer Tarren required there be one last inspection of her vitals. Produce a report and send it to me when you're done." she huffed, turning on her heel and left the room. Two trainers sprang up to leave as well, flocking obediently by her side. 

When they finished measuring her and comparing fabric swatches, they left wordlessly. Leaving behind one last Healer in familiar grey robes. 

"I'll just check to see if the fertilisation has been successful this month." he said, drawing his wand and gesturing for Hermione to sit on one of the footstools. 

"Have you been hurt since your time here?" he asked, a set of parchment floating of its own accord by his head. 

She looked back startled at his question. Would he count the days of rape and mental abuse? if so, then definitely. 

He appeared to have understood her silence and rephrased the question. 

"Sorry - I mean, has anyone harmed you in a way that isn't allowed?" he said, shaking his head. 

"Um- no- I mean... no, not really." she said quickly, feeling shaken by his strange concern for her safety. It was probably just because he was a healer. 

"There have just been instances with the other- the others." 

Hermione tensed up. The others? Luna, Angelina and Alicia's faces fringed her mind. Were they being hurt? 

"What? What happened?" asked Hermione, deciding to test to see how much she could press him for information. 

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you... Some of the- masters, have taken it upon themselves to hurt their Odalisque, though torture isn't necessarily prohibited, it has resulted in a few deaths. " his mouth pressed into a thin line, his disapproval showing in his face.

Hermione almost rolled her eyes, as if he had some moral high ground over the other Death Eaters.

"Some of the partners haven't responded well either, a suppose they have grown jealous..." He trailed off, but Hermione didn't need him to finish for her to deduce what had happened to them. 

"Do- do you know any names?" 

"... I can't give that information out." he said, looking down. 

He continued the diagnosis in silence. Finally, he sighed took off his glasses to look at her. 

"You're not pregnant. Which is surprising since the fertility dosage for you was especially high... The pregnancy should have taken hold by now." he said, more to himself than to her.  

Hermione remained still, rejoicing silently in her head. It was such a relief, knowing she wasn't holding Malfoy's child.

But sooner or later she would have to get pregnant - or else Voldemort would deem her useless. 

The Healer continued to mutter to himself about dosages and solutions, disregarding Hermione's presence. Finally, he appeared to have come to the same conclusion as Hermione. Concern flashing across his eyes. 

"The Dark Lord is growing more impatient with your progress, though it's only been a short while. He wants a heir for the Malfoy line soon." he flicked his wand at the parchment, rolling it up and stowed it in his robes. 

"I guess he'll have to find someone else then." Hermione said bitterly, knowing the dark fate that awaited her if he did decide that. 

"It's a shame, your work as a Healer during the War was objectively some of the best I've ever seen." he said softly. 

Hermione raised her head sharply to look at him. His friendliness was something she had forgotten was present in the world. For a Death Eater, it was something she never even knew possible. 

She shook her head faintly, wishing that she could leave. His niceness felt wrong and he had no idea the trouble he would be in if it continued. Malfoy combed through all her memories diligently, if the Healer helped her in anyway, it would be a death sentence. 

"No- it- it was just work." she said, hoping that her dismissive tone was enough for him to leave. 

Suddenly, she felt a cold hand grip her jaw. She breathed in harshly. 

"I can help you."

His voice had gotten so low, Hermione could barely hear it. His hot breath whispered menacingly against her face. 

"No one would know. It would pass off as Malfoy's. I've helped other Odalisques." 

Hermione felt as if someone had plunged her back into the dark hall of Voldemort. His presence felt as if it had sucked out all of the air from the room, her breath hitching in her throat. Hermione gathered all of the calm and strength in her to keep her voice as even as possible. Trying not to let disgust swallow her voice.

Hermione mentally berated herself. She had let his sudden friendliness lull her into a false sense of security. It was silly of her to think that the Death Eaters were capable of feeling any ounce of genuine concern. 

"I-no. You can't. I don't - Malfoy would know -" 

He grabbed her wrist. 

"You have no idea how much of a favour I would be doing for you. _Be grateful._ " he spat. The friendliness in his eyes had fled from his face, replaced by sudden cold. 

The feeling of his hands on her made nausea pool in her stomach. But she could barely struggle. 

" _No_ \- Please stop. I'll get in trouble." she said, standing up. Trying to look discrete as her eyes darted around the room, looking for some way out. 

She could see his eyes darken while he drew his wand once more. 

" _Immobulu-_ "

 _Crack._  

"Miss Granger! Wiply has been looking for you!" 

Hermione almost cried at the sound of Wiply's squeaky voice. Her ears were shaking slightly in fear while her huge eyes shifted between the Healer and Hermione.

His hold on her wrist had loosened at Wiply's sudden appearance and she was finally able to wrench free. 

Looking thoroughly disgruntled, the Healer jammed his glasses back onto his face and straightened his robes. His obvious attempt at gathering his dignity failing. 

Hermione scampered forward towards Wiply, eager to leave the room and get as far away as possible from the horrible man. 

" _Thank you._ " whispered Hermione, crouching slightly to reach the elf's overly large ears. 

she nodded her head, obviously uncomfortable with Hermione's gratitude. 

"how did you know I was in trouble?" she said as the paced quickly through the halls, away from the Healer. 

"Master Malfoy ordered Wiply to assist you if you were in danger if he was away." 

"oh." Hermione understood why, but couldn't help be slightly crestfallen when she learned it wasn't because Wiply had just become concerned for her. 

"Healer Tarren has sent specific instructions for Granger to be prepared." said Wiply, continuing to walk brusquely along the halls and into a strange room. 

The room was large, dimly lit, through floating candles that hovered closer to the ceiling. It was as sumptuously decorated as the rest of the house, with a magnificent bathtub that was built into the floor. The eyes of pale faced elves followed Hermione as she was swept into the room. She halted in the centre of the room, looking hesitantly at Wiply for her next instructions. 

But apparently deciding that they didn't want to speak to Hermione, the other house elves hurried over, gesturing for her to get into the bathtub. 

Hermione shivered momentarily in the cold air, curling inwards to shield her bare body, but was quickly pushed into the deep tub. 

Thankfully it was steaming hot, the soapy water immediately calming her shivering. Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, the hot water was a great welcome compared to the rushed showers and cold air of the Manor. 

But her moment of relief was over in the space of a heartbeat, the elves immediately drawing rough sponges and bottles of dark liquid. They scrubbed her skin and shampooed her hair so thoroughly Hermione imagined that they were trying to clean her skeleton. After a few frantic minutes of wincing, the elves drew back, her skin bright red from being rubbed raw. 

Hermione touched her face tenderly, feeling more clean than she had ever done in her entire life. But the elves left no moment spared, pulling her up and out of the bathtub and wrapping her in a thick wool towel. 

While they dried her as intensely as they washed her, a pair of elves cleared the bath of water and washed it just as thoroughly. Their obvious distaste appearing in their faces as they reluctantly touched the water. 

Finally, they handed her undergarments and the dress she were to wear that night and allowed her to change.

But having no sense of privacy, they continued to stand by her unawares at her embarrassment. 

Assisting her with buttoning up the back of the dress, Hermione could finally see her appearance.

The dress was definitely something designed by Death Eaters. Designed both to show her off and remind her of her place.

But Hermione couldn't help admire it's beauty. Perhaps in another world, she would have worn this dress herself, a world where her only worry was how she was going to tame her mane of hair, or who her date was going to be.

But this was not that world. Instead she was forced into it, the beauty of the dress tarnished by it's intent. 

It was long sleeved, carefully covering the bump of her inhibitor. It's high neck felt constricting around her throat, a tight reminder of the constant presence of Malfoy and his influence. her sleeves blossomed outwards to be overly long and in the way; she could hardly do anything because of it's heavy and drooping fabric - she was to only remain with her hands by her side, helpless, compliant.

Finally, her dress was clasped tightly by silver buttons down her back. It was subtle, but the meaning was clear; she was unable to put on or take off the dress without assistance, and the only way the dress could be taken off was by someone else. 

Completely powerless. 

Once the overbearing dress was smoothed out, the elves began working on her hair and makeup. Thankfully, they were quick. 

She looked unrecognisable, her hair had been let down, her curls only faintly discernible. the top half of her hair was delicately pinned back to reveal her face. It made her feel fragile and weak. 

Where she was once able to put her hair back in a strong braid, she felt exposed now. Her hair unfurled, reflecting how she had been stripped of any control. 

The Elves hopped down from the little stools around her, vanishing the endless combs and pins that littered the table. 

Wiply spoke up, materialising the suede jewellery box from before. 

"Master Malfoy is waiting in the foyer, he will assist Granger in syncing the inhibitor" she handed the small box to Hermione.

Clearly glad to get rid of it's dark presence. Hermione took it, feeling power emanate through the box. 

Wiply raised her hand, urging Hermione to take it as she brought her to Malfoy. 

The eyes of pale faced portraits on the walls followed the pair as they strode past. Hermione's dress dragged audibly behind her, it was most definitely not discrete.

She could see Malfoy's figure leaning against the handsome marble mantelpiece of the fire. Hearing her entrance, he turned to look at the approaching pair. He too, was holding a small suede box, undoubtedly holding the cursed pieces that would control her for the night. 

He lingered for a moment on the threshold, his eyes scanning her appearance quickly. 

"Open the box." 

Hermione complied. The metal snake lazily uncoiled as light streamed into the box. 

Malfoy walked over and looked down at it with distaste. But his distaste was pushed aside as he picked it up and entwined it in her hair. Immediately as it made contact with her head, it slithered and twisted itself so that it formed into a sort of headband. 

His hands withdrew from the back of her head and returned to his own box, opening it, Hermione could see similarly designed cufflinks. The silver snake heads on the cufflinks hissed faintly before going silent as he fixed them on his sleeves. 

After a moment, an uncomfortable hot pressure began to build in her head, the eyes of the snake glowing green. 

_Can you hear me?_

Hermione jumped slightly, Malfoy's voice echoing cold in her head. 

 _Yes._  

She wondered distantly if he could hear all of her thoughts. 

_Thankfully, I can't. If I could I would probably go mad._

Hermione flinched again, feeling highly exposed and flustered by his presence in her mind. 

Without having to say a word or gesture, he strode over to the point of apparition and Hermione's body immediately followed him of it's own volition. She was shocked at how advanced the dark magic was without the use of the Imperius curse. She supposed that with the Imperius curse, sometimes it's symptoms were noticeable - Voldemort probably did not want to take any chances in fooling the Resistance and public. 

Obediently, she took his arm, gripping it tightly. 

And without a second to brace herself, she felt the uncomfortable pressure from all sides squeezing her as they apparated to the Soiree. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's gown is inspired by Sansa Stark's dresses during season 3 of Game of Thrones! The headpiece that Hermione wears looks like this: (https://accessorized.tumblr.com/post/175695013649/yulia-ratner-for-valentino-spring-2016-haute)


	8. Champagne tears 2

The world spun and warped around her. Pressure building up until she felt like her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. 

And just as quickly as it began, the pressure vanished.

Hermione gratefully gulped in the crisp air, her eyes streaming. The firm ground beneath her feet felt luxurious after the uncomfortable pressure. She could still feel her arm gripping Malfoy's tightly and hastily withdrew it before he noticed how she was holding onto him for support. 

She looked around cautiously, trying to calm her nerves. 

They had materialised into a luscious garden, winding trees whipping through the air in the tight wind. The moon light barely illuminated the path in front of them, Hermione's eyes having to adjust from the sudden change. In the far distance, Hermione could make out the faint glow of a house, the sound of music and laughter emitting faintly from the source. 

Hermione peered up to look at Malfoy for any cues as to what to do, but his mouth was pressed into a thin line, as he too was adjusting to the dim light. 

For a second, they stood in the middle of the clearing, until there was another _crack_ and a short man appeared in front of them. Hermione saw in the corner of her eye, Malfoy's hand jump discretely towards his wand, the headpiece she wore burning tensely.

The man bowed low at the two of them, his balding head shining in the low light. When he rose again, Hermione could make out the faint outline of the Lestrange insignia on his dress robes. 

"Good evening, Sir Malfoy. I will escort you to the entrance." said the man, one gloved hand gesturing up towards the house. 

As they neared, Hermione noted how 'house' was far too a modest description. The massive mansion rivalled that of Malfoy's, it's walls rising high above the neatly manicured hedge and cutting off the moonlight. 

Finally, they turned right, away from the winding dirt pathway and into a wide driveway that lead directly to the entrance. The handsome mansion coming into clear view, bright lights glimmering through the high windows. 

Hermione felt her heart quicken as the sound of people drew nearer and nearer. The cluttered sound of their footsteps grinding on the gravel pathway along with the wind, roared in her ears. Her chest tightened, making her breath come out mangled and laboured. But even with her mounting panic, her legs kept moving, ignoring the dread that paralysed her mind and walked on. 

Finally when her panic seemed to increase impossibly as they were a few meters from the entrance, Malfoy broke through her thoughts. 

_Stop it._

She glanced at him, startled. His face had grown white and he looked just as tense as Hermione felt. 

With this order, she felt numbness radiate across her shoulders, muffling her fear like a blanket. 

As her fear faded away, colour appeared to have flooded back to Malfoy's face. 

"Shall I, Sir?" said the man, his hand placed on the doorknob of the ornate entrance. Malfoy said nothing for a few moments, pausing to straighten his robes and back.

At seemingly an afterthought, he brought round his hand so that it was placed on the small of Hermione's back. 

_Appear calm, don't speak to anyone unless spoken to, try not to stray off by yourself._

She could feel the orders instil themselves into the back of her mind and her hands clenched under her overly long sleeves. 

The moment passed, Malfoy nodded his head at the man and the heavy doors swung open. 

Immediately, the muffled noises of music and people were released, and if it wasn't for the strong mental hold Malfoy had on her, Hermione was sure she would have collapsed. The onslaught of sounds and visuals crowded her senses, the number of faces that she recognised felt too overwhelming. All she wanted to do was scream or fight. But she couldn't. 

Malfoy strode into the hall of the mansion, it's expansive walls appeared to have been enchanted to be even larger for the special occasion. Even with the throng of people beginning to take notice of the pair making their entrance, he kept a stiff hand on Hermione, steering her firmly from place to place. 

"Malfoy! How great it is for you to arrive. - C-Congratulations" said a man, he bowed slightly at Malfoy, giving Hermione a sideways glance, but did not elaborate.  

"Thank you, Pierce. I apologise, but my... wife and I must announce ourselves to the hosts." said Malfoy curtly, not stopping to continue the forced conversation. 

"O-Of course." said the man and he moved to allow them to pass. 

As they navigated the numerous people, hovering trays of champagne and small groups of photographers, Hermione took notice of how Malfoy was treated. The Death Eaters that Hermione recognised seemed to know the orders he was given and his high position with Voldemort, and were extra formal with him. They even seemed scared. The other people they encountered however, treated Malfoy with respect, but definitely not with the same fear as the others did. 

Hermione supposed that the extent of his killing was not known to everybody in the New Order, Malfoy definitely seemed as if he preferred not to speak of it. Only being very brief and curt with the curious guests that asked him of his deeds. 

Even stranger to see though, was the sudden change in attitude in Malfoy. Especially towards the non- Death Eaters, he became strangely charming, holding himself with a new energy that was completely different to how he acted normally. 

But now that there was a faint link in their minds, Hermione could tell the act he was putting up was all false. It felt cold and plastic in her head, infecting her in the same way that even she, unwillingly began smiling at their greeters. 

" _Oh shit_ , I read about it, but I didn't think it was true!" a familiar female voice sneered from behind them. Hermione's neck prickled. She recognised the voice clearly. 

"Pansy, how pleasant to see you." said Malfoy, his voice completely monotone.

They turned round to face her. There was a distinct flush that spread from her face all the way down to her chest, a glass of champagne clutched in her carefully manicured hands. Although it was clear that she was not on her first drink, she stood impressively steady. Her glittering dress dipped low down her chest, her heels dangerously high while her hair was pulled back in an impossibly tight pony tail. 

" _Granger. Granger?_  I heard that you won the auction, but I thought it was just because you just wanted to _fuck her._ Wasn't she picked to be part of the fertility program?" continued Pansy, she knocked back the glass of champagne that she held and summoned another tray of alcohol towards her. 

Malfoy stared impassively at Pansy. Hermione could feel the cold emanating from Malfoy, his seething anger was barely concealed from her through the inhibitor. 

"I can't believe that you managed to get the Mudblood, how did you do it? Imperius? Love potion? You must've -" her words slurred together slightly, her numerous drinks finally beginning to catch up with her. 

"Our matters are private... I heard that Theodore was assigned an Odalisque." replied Malfoy curtly. Hermione felt his anger steep into her, all she wanted to do was rip into Pansy and tear her apart. 

His words clearly struck Pansy. She flushed any even deeper red, her nose scrunched up in dismay. 

"... _Yes_. But I assure you, it is completely clinical." she hissed. The amusement and arrogance in her voice vanished, instead her words dripped in disgust. Her eyes darted somewhere to the left. Hermione couldn't help but glance at what she was so angry at. 

"Oh, is she here? I know that the Odalisques often accompany their owners. Does Nott like to parade her around?" Malfoy continued his remarks, causing Pansy to turn an unpleasant shade of puce. 

The flute of her champagne glass seemed about to snap from the force she gripped it with. The thick layer of makeup she had on only barely covering up her badly concealed anger. 

Apparently satisfied with the response he evoked from Pansy, he finally broke the tension. 

"If that is all, we will be going. We have other, more _important_ things of concern." he said, he placed his hand firmly on Hermione's back again and they ventured their way towards the end of the ballroom. 

At the edge of the ballroom, the only place where it wasn't completely overcrowded with drunk guests, was a dark, ominous looking door. In front, stood two Death Eaters, clearly standing guard for whoever - or whatever was inside. 

Hermione could feel the dark magic radiate through the door, reminding her of Voldemort's dark hall. She shuddered, her steps faltering for the first time the entire night. 

_I - I don't want- is Voldemort here-?_

Malfoy halted, her thoughts had breached the confines of his own. Thinking quickly, he walked them over to a small alcove, bringing her round to face him. 

"Stop spiralling, the Dark Lord is _not here_. He does not occupy himself with the shallow celebrations of his Death Eaters - he has other celebrations of his own." he said in a hushed tone. He had a mixed expression of exasperation and annoyance on his face. 

She nodded at him, feeling grossly out of place and alone. 

Then finally, when he saw that she was somewhat calm, they moved out from the alcove and he strode towards the door, Hermione obediently at his heels. 

"Malfoy." the man said, his voice muffled slightly by the metal mask covering his face. "They are waiting inside." 

And as if on command, the door swung open. Cold air flowed out through the open door, flooding over Hermione's legs like she was being plunged into icy water. 

The room was dimly lit by a small fire burning at the end of the dining room. 

A long dining table filled the length of the room, Death Eaters sat talking in casual conversation, the clink of glasses and cutlery echoing over their voices.

At the end of the table sat another two Death Eaters. Even from the huge distance to the end of the table, Hermione could see the pearly glow of their pale skin against the dark marble walls. 

Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. 

The woman that tortured and killed her friends and the man that Hermione had tried to kill years ago. 

At the sound of them entering, the other Death Eaters turned to look at the pair. Hermione's hazel eyes met with the black of Snape. 

He briefly stared at her, but quickly glanced away, not giving any indication of their previous discussion. 

" _Well, well!_ Look who finally decided to show up! _and_ you brought the Mudblood! oh, you shouldn't have! " said Bellatrix, her high voice carried out over the vast room as the heavy door shut behind them. She stood and gestured at a set of empty chairs at the end of the table. 

"Of course, Bellatrix. I wouldn't miss the celebration." replied Malfoy in a dry voice, ignoring her comments. They strode along the dining table, reaching the group. 

"Aww Draco, you still refuse to call me auntie? I thought we had gotten past our little feud." she continued, even with her dressed somewhat formally, her hair still hung loosely around her face and her eyes were still deeply hooded, making her look just as deranged and insane as ever. 

With one hand on a glass of wine, the other toyed with her wand menacingly. 

Hermione eyed it warily, in the back of her mind, memories of torture and death rose to the surface despite her attempts to squash them. 

" _Enough_ Bella." said Rodolphus in a hard voice. 

She glanced at him furtively. Did he remember that she had tried to kill him? Would that matter? 

As they walked the length of the dining hall, she could hear the sneers and whispers of the Death Eaters. Their faces flashed white against the dimness of the hall, enabling Hermione to see clearly who they were. 

The Carrows, the Rosiers, Karkaroff, Nott, Greyback, Yaxley. Their faces leered out at her in the dim light. Even more faces that she didn't even recognise. 

Hermione tore her eyes from their sneering faces, focusing on walking straight without tripping on the hem of her dress. 

They reached the empty chairs aside each Lestrange. Hermione waited uncertainly, seeing which one Malfoy would take and wondering who would be worse to sit next to. 

Malfoy roughly dragged out the chair next to Bellatrix, an expression of distaste flashing briefly before being obscured by his stone mask of indifference. He looked up at Hermione, his jaw clenched. 

_Sit. down._

Rodolphus yanked his wand out of his robes, causing Hermione to flinch. She could hear the snickers of the other Death Eaters at her reaction and she flushed faintly. With a flick of his wrist, the chair scooted out from under the table and crashed into the back of Hermione's legs. She buckled and sat heavily on the chair as it wedged her tightly by the table. 

Faint laughter rose again. Heat rose to her face, and the desire to flee crashed down on her. 

Once the sneering died down, the conversation began again. Seemingly bored with Hermione already. 

Not wanting at all to engage in the horrible discussions (and not even like she could), Hermione settled herself on staring down at her empty plate. The Lestrange insignia was engraved delicately on the heavy metal cutlery, shining black and gold. Though Hermione didn't dare look, she could see Bellatrix whispering to Rodolphus, both staring intently at her. 

She could practically feel their gaze burn into her skin. 

"You've trained her well, Malfoy. I'm surprised, I thought she would be in pieces by the time she was instated into the program. " said Rodolphus, his eyes glinted as they caught her own. 

"The Dark Lord has his uses for the Mudblood." he replied. 

Bellatrix leaned forward on the table, a wicked grin stretched across her face. Her eyes bore into Hermione, not looking at Malfoy as she cut in. 

"What? _uses?_ I mean, _breeding -_ you don't necessarily need her to be fully intact. Why would you- a Malfoywant to have the Mudblood? I can hardly believe that your motives are purely based on the Dark Lord's uses - " She said loudly, her lip curling up as she continued to look at Hermione.

"Do you question the Dark Lord's methods? Do you think that he hasn't already asked me those questions? I don't think he would be pleased to hear you have been questioning him on the night of the Celebration... You know that the Resistance has been reignited, and I'm sure that you can put two and two together as to why the Dark Lord was intent on feigning the relationship the Mudblood." 

Bellatrix recoiled slightly, and for the first time, looked a little discomfited.

She whipped her head round to face Malfoy. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, colour high in her cheeks. Next to her, Rodolphus sat motionless, glowering at Hermione.

"I-I - _How dare you_ question my loyalty to the Dark Lord- I am his most faithful, most loyal follower!" said Bellatrix, firing up at once. "I wasn't the one who gave up the chance to completely destroy the Resistance just because your mothe-"

Bellatrix's voice began to increase. The interest around the table improved palpably: the discussion dieing down as they turned to look at the feuding pair. 

" _She was your sister._ " he hissed back. Unlike Bellatrix, he was not gripping his wand tightly or standing up from his chair. He was completely still. 

But the force of his hidden anger was felt by Hermione like a crushing weight. If it wasn't for the order for her to appear calm, she probably would have passed out from the shear intensity of his anger. 

It flared up suddenly at the mention of Narcissa, twisting itself in Hermione's gut as if Narcissa's death was her own mother's. 

Hermione could see Rodolphus place a warning hand on Bellatrix's. She yanked it sharply away from him and sat back down heavily into her chair. 

The other Death Eaters quickly looked away, hastily settling back into their previous discussions. 

After the brief conflict between Malfoy and Bellatrix, the conversation strayed from the subject of loyalty considerably.

Though Hermione was inwardly glad that she didn't have to feel Malfoy's cold rage again, now that many of the Death Eaters were on their fourth and fifth drinks, the discussion shifted to vulgar, more crude matters. 

"I can't believe Nott got the good one, mine is absolutely useless. She cries every time, it takes the fun out of it." One Death Eater complained, "I would have liked to show her off, but her arm is horrible to look at. Fucking disgusting, just a mangled stump now." 

He must have Alicia. A hard lump formed in her throat, was she okay? Where were the others? 

"But, I think we might get rid of her, she hasn't gotten pregnant yet and she's become such as nuisance what with all her fighting and whatnot." he continued. Who Hermione supposed was his wife, sat to his left. She looked especially grim, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she raised her half-empty wine glass to her mouth. 

Hermione raised her head from looking down at her lap. The news that Alicia was still able to fight was heartwarming, but she couldn't help but feel dread at what 'getting rid of her' might entail. The last course of her meal lay cold and untouched on her plate. All the talk of how they raped and trained their Odalisques made her nauseous and Hermione was glad that once dessert was over, she could leave the frigid confines of the Lestrange house. 

To her right, Rodolphus was completely quiet while he ate, still eyeing Hermione with a slight sneer on his face. Bellatrix, however, had taken it upon herself to make as many rude and brash comments about the prisoners as possible. The haughty glances that she made very now and then towards Hermione, were apparently to see if her attempts to rile her up were fruitful. 

"Well, Draco. How is it with the Mudblood? Do you enjoy it? Does she cry?" she said, her tone becoming more and more condescending as she looked between the two with a smirk. 

Malfoy took a long swig from his glass and set it down with extra care. 

"If The Dark Lord requires something of me, I will do it. I do not see the point of doing more than what is required. It is simply a task, nothing else." replied Malfoy, in an almost bored tone. 

Hermione's gut twisted and her skin crawled. It took all of her effort not to visibly shudder at Bellatrix's comments and curl inward on herself. 

"Lucky bastard, if I was assigned the Mudblood I would be fucking her every day." another voice piped in.

Hermione flinched slightly at his words. It forced her to wonder if she was actually lucky she was under Malfoy's 'care'. Perhaps if Bellatrix had succeeded in the bidding, Hermione would be in a very different situation. 

Her eyes flicked towards Rodolphus. He seemed to be thinking the same as the other man, as his eye's were darkened as he stared back at her. 

In that moment, she felt his hand graze her knee under the table. Hermione jerked in shock, starting abruptly in her chair. Eyes flicked instantly to look at Hermione. 

"Hahaha, look at how scared the Mudblood is. Say, Granger do _you_ like it when Malfoy fucks you?" Hermione could see the man's face now. It was Blaise Zabini. 

She swallowed; her mouth had become impossible dry all of a sudden. As he asked the question, the interest of the other Death Eaters sharpened: wanting to see her humiliation. 

" _Answer when you're spoken to!"_ snapped Bellatrix, one of her hands hitting the table impatiently. Apparently, if other high ranking Death Eaters ordered her to do things, her inhibitor also responded to their commands. 

Her arm burned intensely and she winced, forcing her to gasp out a response. 

"It is required of me as an Odalisque. I do what I'm told." answered Hermione. Instantly, her words tasted bitter in her mouth, as if someone had just poured poison down her throat. 

There was a loud ripple of laughter that spread along the table. 

"You didn't answer the question - _Do. you. like. it_?" pressed Bellatrix. 

Hermione's face burned but she continued to stare directly at her, refusing to break her gaze. 

"No." 

Sniggers and jeers undulated across The Death Eaters again. The burning sensation spread to her ears and the urge to fold her arms over herself increased immensely. Silent retorts and comments ran through her head.

In that moment, Hermione would give anything to be able to fight back and see their smug expressions slide from their face. But the inhibitors tingled constantly, forcing her mounting anger back into her throat. 

Malfoy looked stonily at the laughing Death Eaters. Hermione wondered if he was annoyed as well, or if her anger had just influenced him. 

_You wear your heart on your sleeve, Granger. Obviously I can feel your emotions, you have no magic to conceal it._

_It's not like you conceal your emotions any better._ Hermione shot back. With her anxiety muffled with the inhibitor, she found that she could stare into his steel grey eyes without stressing too much. 

Malfoy scoffed and looked away from Hermione, a hint of a smirk on his lips. 

Finally, after what felt like years, the Death Eaters finished their numerous courses and began standing up to join the rest of the guests in the wide hall outside. When Hermione stood up and waited stiffly aside for Malfoy, Rodolphus brushed past her. 

She could feel his hot breath against her ear. 

"Remember the last time we saw each other, Mudblood?" 

Hermione felt herself become even more rigid if that was possible. Her breath held tightly in her chest, time seemed to have slowed. 

The sound of chairs scraping against the ground and the guests outside through the now, open door sounded distant and faded. 

" _Granger_ , what are you doing?" snapped Malfoy. Hermione blinked. She glanced sharply to her right, Rodolphus had gone. 

Malfoy stood slightly in front of her, a puzzled look on his face. Hermione hadn't even noticed that Malfoy had left already, her inhibitor hadn't responded. 

She gave a jerky nod and stepped quickly by his side, eager for the inhibitor to stop burning now that Malfoy had ordered her to come next to him. 

As they stepped through the doorway, warmth quickly surged back into her skin. Though she was still surrounded by members of The New Order, it felt much better in the open. 

Her moment of relief was abruptly shortened by bright bursts of light and the sharp sound of cameras going off. Hermione, momentarily blindsided stumbled back quickly, only to have her arm gripped tightly by Malfoy. 

_Follow along with what I do._

"Malfoy! When did the relationship with the Mudblood begin?" shouted one reporter. Hermione's eyes began to adjust to the camera flashes and she was surprised to see a large swarm of reporters and cameramen scrambling for questions in front of them. 

"How are the rebellions in Estonia being handled?"

The questions seemed endless, the reporters berating Malfoy with so many questions, you could barely overhear them over one another. 

Malfoy raised his hand, his brow furrowed. 

They silenced immediately. 

"The questions regarding my relationship with Hermione have been answered in my previous statement. The New Order will handle disruptions to our agenda how the Dark Lord sees fit." Malfoy answered the questions automatically, as if he had been told what to say.

It was the first time Hermione had heard him say her name. It felt hollow and empty. But the reporters frantically recorded his every word, quick notes quills scratching at parchment floating in the air. 

A scrawny, extremely tentative looking reporter put his hand in the air. Malfoy nodded curtly, permitting his question. 

"H-How do you respond to the accusations that Hermione Granger has been f-forced into the relationship?" he asked, his voice quavering. Hermione's heart skipped, she could feel the tension in the air. He was not allowed to ask those sorts of questions. 

Hermione could already predict how mutinous reporters were dealt with. Looking at how The Daily Prophet now covered events, it was unlikely that any honest news reporting could ever be done. 

"Any accusations of the sort are absurd. Hermione had just seen the errors in the Resistance." he said, his voice becoming more and more hollow and unnaturally charismatic. He reached out and hooked an arm around Hermione's waist, lightly pulling her closer to him. Her headpiece prickled and she felt her face reform into a tight smile. 

"Can s-she elaborate?" the reporter pressed, despite his shaking voice and scrawny appearance, his eyes looked determinedly at Hermione. His thin features were arranged into an expression of complete focus.

Something about him felt strangely familiar, but Hermione couldn't quite place her finger on it. 

 _Tell him that you believe that the Resistance is wrong, be convincing about the relationship._  

She felt her mouth open and words that were not her own spilled forth. 

"The New Order is achieving what never could be possible under the old rule. Now, with the Dark Lord's leadership, wizards and witches can lead better lives." Hermione faltered. _I don't want to say these things_.

 _Do as you're told._  

Her throat burned, forcing her forward, Malfoy's words in her mouth. 

"The Resistance are not fighting in the interest of the Wizarding world. They are fighting for selfish goals." Hermione's breath caught slightly, she was shaking with anger. " I finally saw the faults in our ways, and I was able to find solace in the New Order." 

Her mouth felt numb, her jaw was tingling from the strain of trying to stave off the orders of the inhibitor. 

She clenched her hands under the cover of her long sleeves. Relishing the feeling of her nails biting into the skin of her palm. 

It was the strangest, most awful feeling in the world. Words being forced into your mouth, tearing apart her values and beliefs. The only tiny part she thought she still had control of, was taken from her. 

Like they had taken the control of her body. 

Her choices. 

Her freedom. 

She glanced at the reporter. Surprisingly, he looked grim. Defeated. 

For some reason, Hermione wished she could apologise to him, even though he was a Death Eater. Something about him felt distinctly familiar. 

Before Hermione could puzzle over his familiarity, the reporters burst with questions again. 

Seeing that there were no more questions being directed at her or her presence, Hermione was glad that she was allowed to step back from the constantly flashing cameras of the reporters.

_Do not stray too far, I can only use the link if you are within range._

She quickly slid to the edge of the hall, as far as she dared to go without notifying Malfoy. 

Luckily, he was obviously more absorbed in evading or answering questions about the politics of the New Order, not giving Hermione a second glance as she hid from their watching eyes. 

She leaned back against the cool wall of the Lestrange Manor. Even though she was surrounded by all the people she had ever hated and tried to kill before, she was utterly relieved to have some sense of calm while she leant on the wall. Hermione surveyed the scene before her, drunk guests and roaming Death Eaters swarmed the floor. They all looked so carefully pruned and manicured, fake smiles and glittering robes obscuring their darker tendencies. 

It was sickening, she could hear voices of people boasting about their Odalisques. About the number of times they made them cry, or how they trained them to lift their skirts whenever they wanted. She wanted to be sick. 

But even with the disgusting displays of indifference and selfishness, her ears still strained to hear the names of surviving resistance members. Maybe they were still alive. Even if they were forced to copulate with the very people that took their freedom. 

A dark train of thought thrust it's way to the surface of her mind. Maybe it would be better for her friends to die. So that they wouldn't have to suffer endless torture and be complicit in their own rape. 

Hermione's thoughts began to dwindle lower and lower, but something suddenly caught her eye. 

A flash of red through the crowd. 

Her eyes strained to find it again, she swore she saw-

Katie Bell. 

She blinked and stood straight from the wall. _No, it couldn't be_. 

But it was her. She was standing by the side of some man and woman, wearing a bright red dress that classified her as an Odalisque. Her head was low, her hands were clasped neatly in front of her. 

Hermione inhaled sharply. 

This wasn't the same girl she once knew. Katie's eyes were dark and sunken, clearly puffy from crying. Though she stood upright and perfect, her eyes betrayed how worn she had become. 

Observing the rest of the crowd, Hermione could now see more flashes of red now and then that she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps she subconsciously didn't want to see them; she didn't want to confirm in her head that the others were going through the same horrors that she had. 

Emotion swelled in her chest like a bubble. Her legs began to move without much thought towards Katie, she slipped past the reporters unnoticed - maybe if she could just get Katie alone she could -

"Where do you think you're wandering off to?" 

Rodolphus's raspy voice came whispering against her ear. His gnarled and ringed hand ghosted over her waist. 

"I've been wanting to talk to you ever since I saw you enter that room." His voice dipped lower and he yanked her off to the side, dragging her down the dark hallways of the Manor. 

"Stop- no-" Hermione struggled out, her heart thudded against her ribcage. 

He slammed her against the corridor wall, her head jutting sharply against a torch bracket. 

"Do you remember when you tried to kill me? Do you remember that?" 

Hermione cringed away from him as much as his hold on her allowed. But his hot, harsh breath still blew in her face, spiking fear into her blood and reminding her of her previous encounter with Lucius. 

A strangled whimper formed in Hermione's throat. 

"Ever since then, I've wanted to catch you - take that self righteous look from your eyes, put you in your place " he hissed. Hermione shut her eyes. 

One hand came round to the collar of her dress and he yanked it hard so that it ripped against her throat and the buttons clattered on the floor. 

" _No- stop it -_ " Hermione began, cold air hitting her bare neck. She raised her shaking arms from her sides and pushed helplessly against his chest. 

He laughed derisively.  

"And then, Bella and I found out you were to be auctioned. You must imagine our delight - both of us dreamed of having you to ourselves so that we could torture and break you." 

His hand continued to rip at the clasps at the back of her dress, further exposing her to him. 

Hermione let out a panicked cry. There was nothing she could do, the mind link only worked if she was somewhat close to him - he probably had no idea where she was right now, not that he would even care. 

But the inhibitor usually allowed him to feel her emotions, maybe he would feel her distress and stop Rodolphus. 

Her thought was cut short, the top half of her dress was torn partially aside and his rough hand quickly grabbed her vulnerable breast. Another whimper left her throat, lost pleas for him to stop being quickly ignored. 

She could feel his other hand bunching her skirts up roughly, attempting to rip down her underwear. Hermione immediately tried to pry his hands away, cries tearing at he throat and tears welling in her eyes. 

All of a sudden, the pressure on her body vanished. A loud bang and flashing lights overwhelmed her senses and all she could do was slump to the floor. 

She could hear someone utter repairing charms, and her dress roughly came back together enough that she could cover herself. 

Hermione looked up, the silhouette of Snape coming into view. 

He was stood over the unconscious form of Lestrange, saying nothing as he inspected his body. 

Suddenly, Malfoy apparated into the hall, looking absolutely furious. 

He looked wordlessly at Snape and then down at Hermione. 

" _You told me you had the situation under control_." hissed Malfoy. Snape stuffed his wand back into his robes and strode past him. He paused. 

"The Dark Lord has scheduled a check in for next week." He appeared to be struggling to keep his own anger in check. "Make sure Granger is recovered by then." 

With an air of finality, Snape left the hall, millions of questions unanswered. 

Malfoy watched as the last of Snape vanished, and finally turned his attention towards Hermione. 

She shrunk against the wall as he reached out an arm. 

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." he said in a clipped voice. Stooping slightly, he helped Hermione to her feet and apparated them back to the Manor. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, really struggled with this chapter for some reason :(


	9. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOw sorry for the late updates recently, updates will get back on schedule this week on Sundays!

Hermione could barely register the moment that she was picked up off the ground and transported back to the Manor. 

The overwhelming urge to both cry and throw up built intensely as pressure from all sides squeezed her like a tube, reminding her of Rodolphus's hands and body on hers. 

When they landed on solid ground, Malfoy loosened his hold on her and Hermione immediately felt her knees buckle and hit the hard marble floor. The sharp pain that shot up and clouded her mind was a thankful distraction from the stinging on her breasts and legs. 

Suddenly, her mind was brought back to moments before. Lestrange's rough hands dragging against her legs, the force he used to rip open her dress. The sound of buttons clattering and fabric tearing filled her ears.

Hermione felt herself shaking, heaves racking her body as she threw up onto the floor. It felt torturous, like somebody had dragged knives up through her throat. She dry heaved again, shuddering on the floor while her body attempted to expel any remnants in her stomach. 

Once she had stopped gagging, Hermione heard Malfoy mutter a cleaning charm and the vomit disappeared. She could see his leather shoes standing by her in the corner of her eye, unmoving.

In the back of her head, she was surprised that he hadn't immediately stepped away at the sight of her vomit. She would have thought that his distaste for Mudbloods was strong enough that he would have just called the house elves to do the cleaning. 

The cold air of the Manor suddenly settled on her bare skin, abruptly forcing Hermione to register how exposed she was to him. The feeling of cold air on her felt like sandpaper, her legs suddenly felt too much in the open, her neck was too cold. She suppressed a small whimper, drawing her shaking hands around herself in a feeble attempt to cover up. 

Sobs began to shake her chest, tears dripping thickly down her face. 

_Oh god, oh god-_

Hermione bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing down the wails that rose up in her mouth until she could taste blood. 

She could hear Malfoy draw in a sharp breath. 

"He is not here. He can't reach you." he said quickly. Hermione noted faintly that he sounded shaken, the steely emotionless voice that was always constant, quavered ever so slightly. In anger, or annoyance, she could not tell. 

Tears continued to fall from her eyes and Hermione wrapped her arms around herself even tighter. Her nails dug into her flesh, she could feel skin breaking and blood at her fingertips. 

She wanted pain to fill her head, to completely absorb her thoughts until all she could feel was agony. 

Not the memory of his breath in her ear, or the feeling of her underwear being dragged down her legs, or the utter, all consuming feeling of complete loneliness that finally struck her. 

She was truly and utterly alone. 

Her body had betrayed her, but now even her mind was breached. 

There was nothing left. 

All of a sudden, hands began prying gently at her own. One apprehensively gripped her shoulder, pulling her up lightly. 

Hermione looked up, her cheeks still wet with tears. Malfoy did not look back down at her, his face a mask devoid of emotion. But his arms continued to move, supporting her so that she could shakily begin walking to her room. 

They continued in silence, Malfoy only stopping whenever she felt her legs begin to stumble. 

When they finally got to her room, he manoeuvred her over to her bed so that she sat on the end of it. Now that she couldn't focus on the task of walking, her thoughts came haunting back to her again. Her breathing becoming more and more shallow, vision becoming blurred with tears. The memory sharp and clear in her mind, every detail, every moment felt like it was filling her entire body, swallowing her whole. 

Malfoy recoiled, his hand abruptly reaching to his wrist and twisted at something there. Hermione could see him wrench away the cufflinks and the glimmer of something else. 

The pressure coming from the headpiece dissipated, now that it was gone, Hermione realised that she had grown used to it and didn't notice how it had built around her head. The metal snake uncoiled and slid onto the sheets, eyes glowing briefly before coiling up once more. 

Malfoy looked down at Hermione, his jaw tense. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, feeling completely weakened by her encounter with Rodolphus. Apparently deciding what to do, he flicked his wand and a blanket dropped into his hand. He slowly stepped closer to the bed, looking at her face to see if she would panic even more by his proximity. 

Seeing that she did not flinch or cringe away from him, he brought round the blanket so that it was wrapped tightly around Hermione. 

Hermione immediately latched onto it, pulling it closer to her body to still her shaking. 

"Wiply." 

_crack._

"Yes, Master Malfoy?" 

"...summon the Healer at once-" 

Hermione flinched, remembering how the previous Healer had tried to take advantage of her. 

" _No!_ I - _please_ , I-I can't-" Hermione gasped out, staring desperately at the back of Malfoy's robes. 

He turned around hesitantly. His brows furrowed as he studied her face. 

"I need to see the extent of the damages. Your examination is next week, if you are compromised, the -" 

"I-I- the Healer, he- _he tried t-to_...can't s-someone else-?" she stuttered, breath hitching in her throat as another bout of crying forced its way up. 

He paused and stared at her. He seemed to understand what she was trying to say as his eyes narrowed. 

"Do you remember which Healer it was?" his voice was unnaturally calm. 

Hermione bit her lip, curling inwards even more to shield herself from his gaze. 

She shook her head. She knew he could easily reach in and draw the answer from her, but she refused to revisit that memory. 

There was silence for a few more moments, interspersed by Hermione's small sniffles and hiccoughing. 

This time when Malfoy spoke again, his voice sounded less tense. Maybe he understood that she didn't want to talk about it. The thought of that almost made Hermione laugh, as if Malfoy of all people would care if she wanted to do something or not. He probably just didn't bother to check. 

Hermione could hear him straighten his robes. 

"Fine, I will deal with you myself. Wiply, bring the Murtlap essence." 

He knelt down in front of Hermione, so that he was level with her as she sat curled on the edge of the bed. She could hear him reach into his robes for his wand, and flinched suddenly, breath shaking. 

His hand hesitated momentarily, before he continued and cast a diagnostic charm on her. 

He let out a low hiss or dissent, quickly waving his hand so that the diagnosis vanished from the air. 

"Drink this." he pulled out a tiny vial from inside his robes, for a second Hermione could see a large collection of other similarly sized vials, but it was quickly hidden again as his robes were swept back into position.

She took it apprehensively from him, eyeing the liquid suspiciously. 

"Wh-what -"

"It's a calming draught." 

Hermione jerked her head in understanding and quickly downed the contents of the potion. The feeling of calm blossomed from her throat outwards to the rest of her body, stilling her shaking and muffling her anxiety like a thick blanket. 

"You have to take off the blanket, I need to see the damage." said Malfoy tensely. 

Hermione looked down at herself, looking at the roughly strewn together robes that she held tightly. Her arms were mottled with light cuts and angry, red welts. Her legs were in an even worse condition, streaked with raised scratches where Hermione had tried to push his rough hands away. 

She expected the inhibitor to burn, but it didn't. 

Hermione looked up at him, faintly surprised that he was giving her some form of an option. 

His steel eyes met her own. The mask of indifference flickered, something more complex and tormented lay underneath before his expression was fixed back to a stone veil. 

She shrugged off the blanket, goosebumps immediately forming as her skin made contact with the air. 

He did quick work, his hands working deftly and efficiently at the abrasions on her skin. If it wasn't for the calming draught, she knew that she wouldn't be able to stand Malfoy's hands grazing her skin so close to where Rodolphus had. 

Hermione could tell from his surgical precision that he was definitely experienced in healing. Most Death Eaters learned simple spells to heal during battle, but it was nevertheless still somewhat surprising that Malfoy would also be adept in healing. He was the right hand of Voldemort, any healing was mostly likely beneath him. In her limited memories, Hermione recalled that she never saw Malfoy heal himself - he never had to. But watching him now, it was clear that he had spent large amounts of time practicing healing magic. 

The reasons that he would need to baffled Hermione nearly as much as his sudden decision to let Hermione take off the blanket of her own volition. 

Wiply apparated back into the room, handing a small jar to Malfoy and then dissaparated once more. 

"I need to access the other wounds." 

Hermione nodded in understanding. Despite the presence of the calming draught, a lump formed in her throat and her stomach lurched. 

She turned away from him slightly so that he could access the buttons lining her back. It was the cruel design of the Death Eaters; even if she wanted to, she couldn't take off her dress without someone else's help. 

He quickly unclasped the dress, but stopped to allow her to pull the top down herself. 

He did the same to her chest, flicking his wand back and forth so that the bruises faded from her skin and the cuts sealed. Once that was done, he indicated the same to her legs, so that she pulled the dress up so that he could access the wounds. 

Luckily, he was just as quick, hands barely skimming the surface of her skin while worked. 

Once he finished, he stood up stiffly, straightening his collar and sleeves again. 

"Use the murtlap essence on the healing areas. I will give you a potion for sleep tonight." 

Once he handed her the potion, he left the room, his eyes flashing briefly with something Hermione could not decipher. 

Feeling the all of the trauma and events of that day suddenly crash down on her, all Hermione wanted to do was collapse into the bed and sleep. But knowing she would regret waking up in the same dress she was assaulted in, she forced herself towards the drawers to change. 

With trembling hands, Hermione slowly changed into her nightclothes, with the calming draught wearing off, the dark haired face of Rodolphus swam tantalising in her memory. His sneering grin, glinting eyes and rough hands swarmed her thoughts. 

_Oh god- why?_

Hermione clutched the set of drawers, chest heaving and throat gulping in desperate breaths of air. Black spots clouded clouded her vision as she scrambled to pull her clothes on. Each movement felt torturous, as if someone had tied weights to each of her limbs and she had to heave them up each time she moved. 

Sobbing, she blindly felt for the small vial placed on the nightstand and downed it immediately, urgently needing the darkness of sleep to pull her away from reality. 

Feeling the potion beginning to take effect, she pulled the duvet over her curled body. Tears slid out from the corners of her eyes and she finally felt her mind go blank. 

\-----

_"How in the bloody hell did they anticipate the attack? Now we'll have to wait until next month for the next opportunity!" exclaimed Ron._

_Harry, Ron, Hermione and other Order members stood around the dining table. Lupin was pouring over a map with Bill, speaking in urgent tones._

_It was only half a year since Dumbledore died, most of the Order members were still alive, hope still burned strong in everyone. Harry shook his head incredulously, seeming just as baffled as Ron at the current problem. He scratched the end of his nose with his wand, tapping a piece of parchment lightly._

_"They must be getting information somehow. But there's no way, your charms don't permit the spreading of information to anyone but Order members." Harry said, thinking out loud. He looked up at Hermione, his need for an answer plain on his face._

_"Look, Harry. I already told you, I have no idea if the charm is strong enough. It could easily be broken by force." said Hermione, her voice becoming dark and foreboding. Though it was early in the War, Hermione could tell that if the Resistance did not retaliate in the same manner, they would be easily wiped out._

_Mr Weasley stood up from his chair, his kind face more lined and worn than ever before. He took of his spectacles and rubbed his eyes._

_"Look, Ron, we already knew that there was a good chance that the plan wouldn't work. There's no point in arguing over it tonight, we just have to wait for Tonks and Kingsley to come back with the new information." he said with an air of finality as he looked pointedly at his son._

_Lupin spoke up, looking over from the end of the table at the trio. "Arthur's right, you guys should get some rest, we'll wrap up here."_

_Ron huffed dejectedly, looking especially sour. Harry sighed as well, exhaustion catching up with him._

_With one final look at the scattered rolls of parchment and charts, Hermione waved her wand at formed a neat stack in the middle of the table._

_"See you in the morning." said Hermione at the older members, yawning against the back of her hand._

_The trio trudged up the stairs towards their rooms, Ron muttering something about being over age and 'Bill gets to stay'._

_When they finally reached the adjoining rooms, Harry mumbled a goodnight to Hermione and stepped into his room, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the corridor. Hermione could hear the creak of the bed as he collapsed onto it._

_Stifling another yawn, Ron turned to look down at Hermione, barely able to see her in the dim light of the moon._

_Dark questions swam in Hermione's mind as they did every night, every since Dumbledore's death becoming increasingly more frequent and persistent. Was the Resistance going to win?_

_Ron placed a knowing hand on the side of her face, his thumb grazing her cheek and wiped away the wetness that lay there._

_"Mione, it's going to be ok." he said, though he sounded somewhat unconvinced, perhaps he was more telling himself that than he was to her. Hermione reached up and placed her own hand against Ron's._

_"Is it?" her voice shook. With the memory of Dumbledore looking so vulnerable and weak instilled in her mind, she couldn't help but doubt slightly._

_"O-of course. Good always wins." said Ron firmly. He pulled her into his chest, giving her a tight hug. Hermione said nothing, not wanting to let Ron have the same dark thoughts she did._

_The winners always wrote history, always rewriting it so they were the Good. But Hermione knew that wars were not won by having moral high ground, they were won by the ones with more power, more cunning, more ruthlessness, and it was clear that the Resistance did not have many of those things._

_She hugged him back tightly, letting them enjoy their brief moment. Hermione looked up at him again, seeing his blue eyes glint against the moonlight seeping in through the window. Though he didn't say anything, his eyes betrayed the array of emotions in their depths._

_Her heart swelled with both sadness and love at the sight of him. Pressing up on her toes, she reached up to press her lips against his._

_He kissed back deeply, tangling his hand into her mane of hair._

_After a moment, they pulled back from each other. Seeing the moonlight shift slightly, she could see his face clearly._

_His eyes glistened slightly with tears as he looked back down at her with a deep understanding._

\-----

When Hermione awoke, her eyes were wet with tears, the memory still fresh in her mind. Her heart ached terribly, remembering how naive and idealistic they were before they had to become leaders of the Resistance. Before War and death corrupted them. 

With some of her memories beginning to return, Hermione tried to piece together what little information she had. 

Why Voldemort was so insistent on recovering her memories. 

Why Malfoy had volunteered to have her. 

Why her memories had been locked away in the first place. 

None of it made sense, if there was failsafe in place for the failure of the Resistance, why was she here of all places? What did Snape have to do with the plan? 

She lay on her back, looking up at the canopy. Her head throbbed and her hair was plastered to her sweaty face. Her limbs felt brittle and fragile and her stomach growled audibly. Hermione swung her legs off the side of the bed and stepped over to look at the calendar. 

Her stomach lurched, she had slept for three days. 

Someone knocked at her door, she flicked her head sharply to see who it was. Her heart thudded in her chest, as if Snape or Malfoy were about to spring up at her at any moment. 

Wiply peered her head through the door and Hermione sighed with relief, sinking into the chair. 

"Oh good! Granger has awoken, Master Malfoy is wanting you to eat!" she squeaked, brining in a large tray of food and other potions. 

Hermione reached over to help relieve the little elf of her burden, realising how hungry she was at the smell of hot food. 

As she dug into the porridge, her eyes wandered over the small vials that came with it. They were different in colour and consistency, Hermione could guess that they were strength replenishing potions, and with another glance, her eyes landed on the familiar fertility potion. 

Her heart sank. The thought that there was another five days of torture until she became pregnant had drifted from her mind in the past few days. The vial felt warm in her hands, the potion looked viscous than last time. 

They had given her a more potent dose. 

The food she had in her mouth suddenly felt cold and putrid. 

The idea of being pregnant with Malfoy's child felt so real and close. To grow and become attached to the child they created, only for it to be wrenched away and raised to become just as cold and indifferent as the Death Eaters. 

The child was just to be used as a means to access her memories. So that she was weakened by the magical pregnancy and vulnerable to the probing mind of Voldemort. Malfoy probably wouldn't care for it at all. It was just a means for something 'more important'

Hermione swallowed thickly and pushed away the half eaten food. 

"Granger is too finish all the potions!" piped up Wiply, hopping by Hermione's side and indicating to the numerous vials. 

Hermione nodded grimly and began downing each drink. By the time she had finished, her entire body tingled strangely as the strengthening potions returned her energy to her. 

She looked over at Wiply, as she was still stood urgently by her side. 

"Is there anything else-?" she began. 

"Wiply will take you to see Master Malfoy now!" 

Resigned, Hermione got up from the chair and followed Wiply through the house. 

She opened the door for Hermione, looking sympathetic. 

"Granger." 

Hermione nodded her head, standing awkwardly by the door. He looked withdrawn, especially tired, the usual glass of firewhiskey in his hand was replaced by a roll of parchment. His eyes flicked between hers and the parchment in his hand. 

"A message, from the Dark Lord." he paused to unroll it. "-He is growing impatient with the progress on your memories and has summoned us to him to discuss your- options." 

He placed extra care on the word 'options', his voice becoming more and more rigid. Hermione knew there were no options for her, either way, she would still have to follow whatever Voldemort wanted of her. The thought of options to Hermione was laughable, no matter what, she would never be given a choice ever again as long as she stayed with Malfoy. 

Even the idea of escaping became more and more far fetched. Malfoy seemed to anticipate everything she did, the inhibitor ensured that. The only way she had a chance to escape was if she got the inhibitor out of her arm. But that would require someone else to do it for her. Even then, she had no idea if there were warning systems in place if the inhibitor was taken out, maybe if she managed to, Malfoy would be alerted and she would just be placed into another cell. Or placed under an even stricter watch. 

That idea of being given to another Death Eater made Hermione shudder. From what she heard in the dinner conversation, most others were definitely not as clinical as Malfoy. She thought back to seeing Katie and how beaten she looked. 

It made her furious. 

How the New Order was taking these poor girls and making them part of their absolutely barbaric regime. It was completely inhuman. But that was what bemused Hermione the most; she knew that the world was not split into Death Eaters and good people, there was still a shred of human decency in the Death Eaters. How could so many people just stand by and let it happen? 

"He does not excuse tardiness." said Malfoy. His cold voice broke through her train of thought. 

What? _Now?_

Seeing the expression on her face, he aptly continued in a bored tone. 

"Yes, now." 

He strode from his seat, eyes blazing as he raised his arm for her to take. 

Immediately, she felt the awful pressure against her body from all sides as they transported to Voldemort. The unmistakable feeling of fear sunk into her bones, dread pooled in her stomach and her head began to throb in anticipation of the putrid hall. 

Using all of her energy, she managed to stay upright as they landed on the apparition dais. Like the previous times they entered the hall, the air was moist and rancid. 

Stifling an involuntary gag, Hermione shakily followed Malfoy up to where Voldemort sat. She could see his pale body reclining lazily on his cold throne writhing with snakes. The dark magic that emanated from him practically warped the air around him, creating an effect that looked like heat radiation. As they neared him, she felt as if they were walking into thick liquid, slowing her movements and making it painfully difficult to lift her limbs to continue. 

Finally, they reached him. The air around her felt like it was pressing down onto her head, making apparition seem comfortable in comparison. 

She deduced that perhaps her strong reaction to the dark magic was probably due to her lack of magic. Without any basic forms of protection in her mind, it left her even more vulnerable and exposed than she would be without the inhibitor. 

Hermione glanced up at Malfoy. He was perfectly composed, seemingly unfazed by the vast number of wards and dark magic that layered the hall. 

Maybe he was simply used to it. Maybe he had become so infected and poisoned by the dark magic he used everyday, that encountering levels of dark magic such as Voldemort's was simply routine. 

It would certainly explain his cold demeanour and sharp change from the arrogant boy he once was. 

"You received my message." 

Malfoy dipped his head respectfully. 

"In light of recent events, you understand my sense of urgency?" he said, his cold voice penetrating into Hermione's head. Her interest sharpened and she stiffened slightly.  _recent events?_

His red eyes fastened onto Malfoy's grey ones with such intensity, Hermione was surprised he didn't look away. Malfoy, however, gazed calmly back into Voldemort's face. 

"Of course, My Lord." 

"The recovery of the Mudblood's memories are becoming of utmost importance, such that I am sad to hear the first attempt at pregnancy was unsuccessful." 

Malfoy's mouth was pressed into a thin line. 

"Magical pregnancy is a complicated task. I assure you, my Lord, I have ensured that the Mudblood is given the right conditions to produce a child." 

Voldemort said nothing. His gaze had wandered downward towards one of the snakes entwining themselves around the chair, and he seemed lost in thought. 

"Obviously not enough effort." he said dangerously, "Healer Tarren believes that there are more ways that you are overlooking. You briefly studied medicine did you not?" 

His voice became more icy and menacing. His gaze shifted from the snake back down to Malfoy, his red eyes narrowed. 

"I did, my Lord." 

"Then it concerns me that you have not considered the other solutions that Tarren has brought up." 

Hermione flicked her eyes back to Malfoy, it seemed strange that Voldemort would question Malfoy. Why would he of all people try to thwart his leader's plan? There was no apparent reason for him to delay a pregnancy, after all, he seemed the most keen in completing Voldemort's plan without any slip ups. 

Voldemort shook aside his robe, exposing his dark mark and pressing against it. Immediately, there was an echoing crack from behind them, Tarren apparating into the room. 

"So?" 

"My Lord, the results have proven fruitful with the other Odalisques. They have successfully been impregnated." 

Malfoy shifted to look over at Tarren, his nose wrinkled surreptitiously with disgust. 

"It seems that many of the problems that arose with the others was mainly due to a rejection of seminal fluid from the body. Even with the inhibitors restricting magic, it seems that the body's innate response to forced copulation is to magically close off ways of fertility." 

Hermione could vaguely recall learning about magical pregnancy during her studies. She remembered all of the different potential complications from the tiniest of factors: mental health of the mother, magical levels of parents, exposure to dark magic, and lastly, the body's response during copulation. She hovered on that last point, from where Tarren was going with her new 'method' she had an inkling of what the solution was. 

It made her stomach drop. 

"By tweaking the guidelines of the inhibitor slightly so that the Odalisque is forced to have a bodily response during copulation ensured that the fertilisation efforts were not rejected. Thus, if the Mudblood is to fall pregnant soon, her body will be especially drained of magic in the effort, allowing you to recover her memories without fault." 

She looked at Hermione with a smug expression on her face. It was obvious that she was proud of her 'research'. Struggling not to glare back at the Healer, Hermione forced her attention back to Voldemort, feeling sicker and sicker with every passing moment. 

"The potency of the fertility potion has also been increased, though it comes with some side effects, it increases the fertility period to twice a month, ten days in total." 

Hermione stared back at the Healer aghast. 

If it was possible that her life could sink any lower, it had just happened. 

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. It was a nightmare. 

Malfoy continued to stare up at Voldemort, not looking at all at Tarren as she went on about fertility. His expression was growing more and more mask like as Tarren continued to speak, his complexion paling marginally. 

"Procure a new schedule for Malfoy and update the inhibitor." Voldemort finally said, raising one large pale hand and dismissing Tarren. 

Tarren bowed respectfully, but looked nonetheless sour. Almost as if she expected praise from Voldemort.

"I don't want to see any more oversights regarding the Mudblood, her involvement with the Order is too important to be disregarded. That will be all." 

He dipped his head low towards Voldemort and quickly whisked away back towards the apparation point. 

Grabbing onto his arm, they hurtled back towards the Manor. 

Once they landed, Hermione's head exploded in pain, forcing her to collapse on the floor as she held onto her head. 

 

All she could see was Malfoy's steely eyes staring at her as he lifted her up and her vision faded into black. 

 


	10. Revised secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how disorganised and unlucky I am! I dropped my laptop while I was typing up this update and I had to retype the entire chapter on my phone! Sorry about this :(

A blinding, sickening pain was thudding sharply in Hermione's head. She could faintly recall the feeling of falling to the floor, but the next thing she knew, she was lying back in her bed and looking up at the blank wall above her. 

With a sharp wince, she raised her head awkwardly. 

There, beside the window, sat a blond haired, steely eyed person. 

From looking at the magically conjured up chair and the newspaper he had in one hand, it was apparent that Malfoy had been sitting there for some time. 

With his other hand he was holding the silver watch he always wore. He fiddling with the knobs on the side of it, changing things Hermione could not see. 

Hermione gave the face of the watch a furtive glance. The surface of it, always cloudy and swirling remained the same and she could not decipher what the strange object could mean. 

Hermione shifted her gaze and looked around.The sky was indigo with streaks of blue throughout it. She must have slept through till the next day: dawn was just peaking over the trees that lined the edge of the manor. Malfoy must have stayed in the room since she had passed out the previous night. 

She pushed herself slowly up onto her elbows, her body feeling especially stiff and heavy. 

"W-What happened?" said Hermione, her voice sounding extremely hoarse and croaky. 

Malfoy didn't glance up from the paper and clasped his watch back onto his wrist. 

"The Dark magic from the Dark Lord's hall appeared to be too much of a strain on you. The inhibitor weakens the body and mental barriers greatly, the pressure from apparating that distance and feeling the power of the Dark Lord caused a fugue state." he drawled, folding up the paper. 

There was a bold headline flashing on the cover of the paper. An image twisted slightly. 

Malfoy seemed to have noticed her interest in the prophet and tossed it into her lap. 

"I think you'll find one section interesting." he said with a slight smirk. 

His words felt extremely disconcerting, and she immediately wrenched open the pages. 

_Population Efforts Successful! First Odalisque child born!_

_Last morning, the efforts of the Population sector for the New Order have proven fruitful! An heir for the Selwyn's was produced. (see page 31 for details)_

Hermione flicked her eyes down to the image. 

At first glance, it appeared to be a simple family photo. But on further inspection, one could clearly see the darkness just below the surface.

On a lower seat, sat the Odalisque. She carried a baby swaddled in dark fabric, it's eyes barely opened. Behind her stood the two Selwyns. The man looked extremely proud, his chest puffed out as the camera flashed, while the woman had a bitter expression plastered onto her face, looking disgusted as she glowered at the child. 

Even with the shifting image, she couldn't see who the Odalisque's face. A strange bonnet looking hat obscured it from view. But even without it, Hermione could see the despair in her lowered head, the emptiness as she moved, and the defeat as she held the child. 

It looked like a funeral. The celebration of a child being born was no where to be seen. The real message was not to enjoy the beauty of life, but a severe reminder of the power of the New Order. 

Hermione swallowed thickly. The extent at which Voldemort would display his power seemed limitless. He spared no detail, no ounce of hope for the onlooking public. Every piece of propaganda shoved down their throats was just another reminder of the futile nature of resisting. 

She continued to read the paper, flicking to page 31 to see the rest of the article. 

_Another achievement for the New Order in perfect timing with the anniversary. A few days ago, renowned Right Hand, Draco Malfoy (along with wife, Hermione Granger) made an appearance at the Lestrange's Celebration to comment on the continuation of the celebrations._

_"At this time last year, the Dark Lord made achievements that no other Wizard had ever done before. In a matter of months, the Dark Lord's power will expand to the rest of Europe. In regards to the rebellions in Estonia, I will be overseeing the final expansion myself."_

The text continued for half a page, rambling on about the greatness of the New Order and all of the different ways you could enlist into it. Hermione skimmed the rest of the page, most of the paper was nothing, there was barely any substance to the information.  Just below the interview, was an image of Malfoy and Hermione. 

He had his hand on her waist, and they were both smiling slightly towards each other. 

From an outside perspective, no one would be able to tell if their relationship was genuine or not. In fact, they looked as if they were actually in an authentic relationship. 

But Hermione felt sick to her stomach looking at her face. 

It was infuriating. It was completely degrading, they had taken control of her body, privacy, freedom and now her identity. People would see the former head member of the Resistance and just see a spineless, manipulative traitor. 

With frustration and disgust beginning to cloud her judgement, she folded it sharply and placed it on the edge of the bed. 

Malfoy glanced over from the window, a smirk forming as he saw her expression. It vanished quickly, a sharp rap on the door announcing another person's arrival. 

Healer Tarren swung open the door, looking just as disheveled and grumpy as the last time she saw her. 

"I'm here to update the inhibitor." she said. 

Malfoy scoffed lightly. 

"I know, I was there." said Malfoy, his voice completely deadpan. 

She said nothing, a dark flush spreading to her cheeks as she so obviously struggled not to retort back. 

Taking her anger out on Hermione, she strode over to Hermione's bed, whipping out her wand as she did so. Instantly, Hermione hoisted herself up onto her elbows, curling inwards protectively. 

But with a simple flick of her wand, Hermione was forced to sit up rigidly, one arm being forced upwards as she poked her wand at the small bump. 

" _Linam Ercere_ " muttered Tarren. 

The effect of the charm took hold instantly. The inhibitor began to burn so intensely, Hermione almost expected her arm to burst into flames. It spread upwards towards the back of her neck, shooting pains curving up to pierce her skull. 

A pained gasp was forced out of Hermione as she struggled against the order's instilling into her head.

In the midst of the blinding pain, she could see Malfoy get up sharply from the chair, eyes narrowed and jaw clenching tightly. 

Tarren glanced over and paused her wand strokes. 

"Oh that's right, I forgot about the link." she said with sneer. Obviously relishing the pain she was inflicting onto both of them. 

Finally, the feeling eased. She lifted her wand away and began muttering some other charm in Hermione's direction. 

Now that completely mind numbing pain had disappeared, Hermione turned her attention towards Malfoy. 

She understood the need for them to be connected to the inhibitor so that owners could easily send orders to their Odalisques, but feeling their pain was completely different. On one hand, feeling her pain could enable them to be notified when they were trying to hurt themselves or in danger, but Hermione learnt from the Soiree, that so many of the owners inflicted pain on the Odalisque's themselves. So it definitely didn't make sense to include pain into the inhibitor if it would get in the way of the Owner's 'entertainment'. 

Maybe Malfoy was given a specific inhibitor so that he could keep extra watch on her. 

That would make sense with all of the extra precautions he took the liberty of placing all around the Manor. 

Hermione's train of thought was abruptly cut off, a projection suddenly illuminating the room. 

Though it had been years since she had last cast the signature spell on herself, Hermione instantly recognised her signature. 

It burned and flickered brightly like an orb of floating fire in the middle of the room. It's light bathed the room in gold and cast harsh shadows. 

Looking at it gave Hermione a sudden burst of courage. She was still alive. 

Tarren studied it carefully, pacing around the projection to get a better look. 

Then, just as abruptly as she cast it, she waved her wand again and the room was swept into cold light. 

Hermione could see in her expression that the examination hadn't given her what she wanted. Her nostril flared angrily and her brows were furrowed. 

Tarren whipped round to face Malfoy, all apprehension and fear from their previous meeting gone. 

" _Why haven't you been reporting these abnormalities in her mental barriers_?" she hissed. Completely ignoring Hermione's presence and spoke as if she weren't in the room. 

"How I handle the Mudblood is none of your concern." he said dismissively, rising intimidatingly above Tarren. 

She continued without hesitation. 

"Do you have _any idea_ the situation you have put me in? How can I continue like this if you and Severus insist on going behind my back? I can't continue to leave things out in my reports, the Dark Lord -" 

Malfoy stepped closer to her so that they were now a foot apart. 

"You will continue to follow our orders. May I remind you that you are not in any position, _at all,_ to be negotiating with me." said Malfoy. The tension began to rise insurmountably, the air was practically crackling with anger. 

A purple colour rose high in her cheeks with indignation. 

"You can't keep _stalling_ , Draco! The Dark Lord will realise sooner or later, it is inevitable, you have to continue with the Dark Lord's orders. I don't know why-" 

"Is _that_ why you pulled your little stunt the other day? Are you _trying_ to undermine me? I don't care if it's your job to come up with ways to make those girls pregnant, but _you know_ what is at stake." 

"Well, what else could I have done? The Dark Lord was getting impatient and I-" 

"Not here." Malfoy said, his voice became low and menacing. There was an almost inaudible swishing noise as his hand reached for his wand underneath his cloak. 

Hermione could see Tarren's eyes flick from her, Malfoy and then down to where he was clutching the wand. Hermione could practically see the cogs turning in her head as she weighed the consequences of continuing to speak. 

Her voice rose slightly as desperation began to seep into her words. "-I-If you do anything, the Dark Lord will raise suspicions. You know that I am not as adept in Occlumency as either of you, if you were to harm me, the Dark Lord would have no trouble in-" 

" _Not. Here._ " Malfoy growled. 

Tarren stopped instantly as if she also had an inhibitor.

The air seemed to vibrate with the force of his words. 

Unlike last time, Tarren recovered quickly, straightening herself out and stepping back from Malfoy. 

"Fine." she bitterly handed Malfoy a sealed envelope and turned on her heel to walk away. 

At what was apparently an afterthought as she gripped the door handle, she turned to address Hermione. 

"By the way, the- _symptoms_ of the updated inhibitor will be somewhat _heightened_ on the first night, it will pass as you grow accustomed to it." she gave Hermione a strange sort of smile that looked more like a self righteous smirk than anything else. 

Finally, the door shut with a resounding click and the two of them were left alone once more. 

_Symptoms?_

Hermione swallowed uneasily. Seeing how bitter and begrudging Tarren was, her little side note probably entailed more than just small medical side effects. 

Of to the side, Malfoy could be seen carefully opening the sealed envelope. He took out the thick paper and began to read it. 

Hermione had studied his face many times before as he was one of the only people she interacted with. But every time, it was very strange. All traces of boyhood and naive haughtiness from his younger days were completely gone. Instead, in its place was deadly, calculating cold. 

Her eyes travelled up the curve of his jaw, to his light eyelashes and neatly parted hair. Every part of him was flawless. In the objective sense of course, Hermione told herself. 

It was like he was carved out of stone. Beautiful but impassive. 

Sometimes Hermione caught herself wondering whether or not Malfoy genuinely cared for her. But she always caught herself and dismissed the thought. She was just showing symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome. It made sense after all: one of the only people she every interacted with and she relied on him for information, food, everything. 

It was just a psychological response. Nothing else. 

As he read, only his eyes moved. His mouth didn't so much as twitch or give away any kind of emotion laying under the surface of his cool demeanour. 

Finally, Malfoy exhaled sharply and dragged his eyes away from the parchment. 

He seemed angrier somehow as he stashed the envelope back into his robes. 

"Here is your updated schedule. I expect you prepared at 8:00 sharp, Wiply will escort you as always." there was a note of resentment in his voice as he tapped the calendar on her table. Sweeping his robes back into place, he gave one last glance at Hermione before striding out the room. 

The door shut once more and Hermione was left to wallow in the heavy silence that Tarren and Malfoy had left behind. 

She let herself sit in the bed a few moments more, her head falling back onto the headboard with a dull thud. 

For once in her life, she felt that she had too many thoughts in her head. 

Usually, she would have loved to gather any sort of information. But because the stretches of time where she had no outside information at all were greatly longer than the periods of time when she did, it was extremely jarring to suddenly be thrown so much information. 

It felt as if someone had just tossed her into the ocean. 

She swung her legs off the bed and began pacing the room, tracing her thoughts urgently to the conversation before hand. 

Detach yourself from the situation. 

Don't let emotion cloud your judgement. 

Just analyse the current circumstances. 

She inhaled deeply through her nose. 

It seemed as if an opening had presented itself. Malfoy, Severus and Tarren were hiding something from Voldemort. 

Hermione raked her mind for each specific word said. 

_"The dark lord will realise sooner or later..."_

What was Malfoy stalling for? 

Something important enough for him to risk his allegiance to Voldemort. But whatever he was stalling for had been ruined by Tarren...

It clicked. 

He was stalling the pregnancy. That's why he was so furious that she had brought up the new method, and why he was angry at her when that method was proven to actually work. 

But for what reason would Snape and Malfoy want to jeopardise their safety just so that she wouldn't get pregnant. To stop her memories from being recalled? 

Hermione's hands twitched involuntarily, wanting desperately to write something down and have something to do with her hands. 

Searching for an answer, she turned to the newly updated calendar, knowing that no matter how long she waited to look at it, her monthly doom would always await. 

This time, noticeably a lot more text covered the surface of the parchment. 

_13th September 2004_

_Fertile days: 13th September - 17th September_

_Mental examination: 16th September_

_Fertile days: 24th September - 28th September_

Before she could stop them, hot, bitter tears spilled over her eyes and landed thickly onto the page. It was boundlessly cruel, subjecting her to endless mental and physical torture until she produced a child. 

She harshly wiped the tears away, refusing to cry because of Malfoy. 

After the inhibitor burned and sharply pushed down the urge to scream and tear the paper up in frustration, Hermione decided that taking a brisk walk as far from the Manor would do some good. 

She looked out across the estate, the sun burned intensely high in the sky, still half a day was left before she had to make her way to Malfoy's quarters and see what the 'symptoms' Tarren spoke about were. 

Pulling the thick coat and boots on, she quickly made her way through the large halls of the Manor, Wiply immediately appearing by her side. 

\-----

By the time Hermione felt the inhibitor burn and she was escorted back to the Manor, the sky was beginning to darken. In any other context, Hermione would consider the estate beautiful. The darkened sky bore streaks of purple cutting across the sky, the outline of the sun illuminated the horizon of trees and hills. The smell of crisp pine trees and dried grass wafted around her. It was almost peaceful. 

But the undeniably dark and sinking feeling of dread began to leaden her limbs. The beautiful landscape completely tainted by the constant mental torture she was subjected to. 

Hermione dragged her feet and resisted the inhibitor as much as possible on the way back that when they got to the door, she felt exhausted from the strain. 

When Wiply saw that she was safely back into her room, she conjured up the fertility potion she had to consume with dinner and gave her one final word. 

"Granger is to get ready for tonight. Wiply will be escorting you tonight!" 

Hermione nodded numbly and began gathering her things to shower. 

Out of all the things she was allowed to do, Hermione thought that showering was the one thing she was remotely grateful for. During the Wars, she barely had time to scourgify the dried blood and dirt off herself everyday. 

At least now I have clean water, Hermione thought bitterly. 

Hermione twisted the faucet so that the water came out achingly cold and hard. It beat down on her like heavy rainfall, the streams of water making it easy for her to pretend the wetness on her cheeks was just the shower. 

Probably an hour or so later, Hermione stood meticulously clean and extremely tense by the window of her room. 

If only she could have a book or piece of paper, at least some of her anxiety could be relieved. But she could only wait. 

The sky was now completely black. Floating lanterns were strewn across the estate, barely lighting up the ground below them. The outline of the horizon was barely distinguishable from the sky, merging into one black abyss. 

Hermione stepped closer to the glass, feeling the strong wards that were placed around them and willing herself to go closer. Shakily, she raised a hand and pressed her palm flat against the cool glass. Feeling the surface of it, the slight vibrations from the magic making it painful to be so close to the window. 

With a hiss, she withdrew her hand from the glass. Frustration burning on the edges of her nerves. 

Suddenly, a light caught her eye.  

Hermione blinked. Sure that the light was just a reflection from inside. 

She looked again. No, the light was undeniable. 

It burned and flickered slightly on the outskirts of the estate. It was tiny, like wandlight. 

Hermione stared at it shocked. 

A message? 

It flicked on and off again a few times. 

It was morse code. Her heart quickened and leapt up in her chest. 

What did it say-

"Granger must come with Wiply now!" 

Hermione whirled around, heart beating rapidly. 

"Wait-I" 

Wiply gave her a sympathetic look, but it was quickly replaced with urgency as she flicked her hand towards Hermione. 

Though it was weak, Hermione was slowly pulled towards Wiply. 

She turned back to look outside. 

But the light was gone. 

Feeling a strange mixture of despair and resignation, Hermione made her way with Wiply towards Malfoy's quarters. 

For some reason, the walk felt even longer than usual. As if her blood had been replaced by molten lead and each step was slowly sinking into the ground. 

By the time they got to the door, Hermione felt weak with anxiety and her ears were ringing ever so slightly. 

"Master Malfoy has not come back yet, Granger is to wait in the antechamber." 

"ok." Hermione nodded faintly. Wiply's voice sounded distant and muted, like she was watching from another room. 

Wiply wavered on the spot, a sympathetic expression plastered on her face. 

Hermione looked away and fixated her eyes onto the doorknob. She didn't want to feel the pity of Wiply. 

A small warmth was suddenly in her clenched hands. Hermione looked down, slightly shocked to see Wiply gripping her hand tightly. 

"Wiply will take you back later." she said. Her voice was hushed and urgent, like she thought Hermione was suddenly going to burst into tears right there. 

"Thank you, Wiply. I'll be ok." replied Hermione. She forced her voice to stay strong and constant, not wanting the little house elf to hear the despair in her voice as she stared back at her with her tennis ball shaped eyes. 

Wiply let go of her hand and dissaparated. The sound echoing faintly in the vast halls as Hermione twisted the door handle and stepped into the room. 

At first, Hermione stood awkwardly off to the side of one of the arm chairs. But after what felt like an hour, Hermione began to hope that maybe Malfoy had forgotten. 

The sound of silence filled the entire room, it felt crushing. Every passing moment only increased Hermione's anxiety, her heart rate quickening abnormally. 

But something didn't feel right. 

The inhibitor had been growing steadily hotter, like someone had placed a heat pack right onto her arm. 

Hermione stared at it with growing horror. 

These were the 'symptoms' Tarren was talking about. 

Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly as the heat slipped down from her arm and pooled lower in her stomach. Her legs began to feel weak and shaky, her hands clutched the side of the bookshelves. 

Her knuckled became white as she tightened her grip. 

_Oh god-no_

The heat steadily moved down and gathered at her core. 

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening indicated Malfoy's arrival. 

She wanted to burst into tears with horror. 

He turned and shut the door behind him. His expression tightened as his gaze landed on her. 

All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball as far away from him, but the growing urge emanating from between her legs was becoming inescapable. 

His eyes darkened as he met hers, and she faintly wondered if their link made him feel the same way. She could see the tendon popping in his jaw as it clenched, his brows furrowed and he looked away from her. 

"Get on the bed."

Tracing the same steps she always took during these nights, Hermione walked unsteadily towards the bed. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she felt weak from the consuming arousal that had taken hold of her body. 

She could hear the swishing of robes and the creaking of a cabinet opening. 

The bed sank underneath her as her weight was pressed into it. To ease the almost painful arousal, she pressed her legs together to create friction, but to no avail. 

Once Malfoy finished downing his glass of firewhiskey and turned towards the bed, Hermione meticulously straightened out her dress and lied back stiffly. 

_It's just physical. It is just the inhibitor that's making you like this._

_You can control yourself._

Hermione repeated the words like a mantra in her head, but it was being more and more difficult to suppress the other thoughts. 

Her body craved the feeling of him against her. She wanted to feel the weight of him, feel the touch of his hands on -

_No._

_Stop it._

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that if she couldn't see Malfoy, she would be able to completely ignore what was happening. 

_It's just the inhibitor._

_It's not you._

She could hear Malfoy's ragged breathing, he seemed just as affected as she was. His hands seemed less controlled, slightly rigid as he pushed her dress to the side. 

Her breath caught in her throat. Her body suddenly exposed to the cold air and Malfoy made her want to simultaneously jump away and open her legs further. She thought she could die from mortification. 

Suddenly, she could feel his hands graze her inner thigh and she let out a suppressed moan. 

Her eyes snapped open and her hands immediately jerked up to cover her mouth. 

His steely eyes were looking down at her with a strange expression. The collar of his shirt was loosened, she could see his collar bones peaking out over the top. His always carefully parted hair was disheveled, strands of white blonde hair obscuring his face. 

She wanted to melt into the sheets and never see him again. Or for him to just get on with it. Right now, it was most likely the latter. 

" _P-Please-_ just-" Hermione gasped out, she gripped the sheets tightly, almost to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. 

_It's just the inhibitor._

He let out a low sound of assent and unbuckled his belt. 

There was a moment of strained silence as he lined himself up. 

Then, he finally pushed into her and she immediately let out a muffled whine. 

Her legs jerked up and knees came up so that her legs were bent. 

 _It's just physical._  

Her hand pressed painfully against her mouth, barely suppressing the low whimpers and groans that escaped her lips. 

A wave of need swept further and further over her body, driving all rationality and reason from her mind as she canted her hips forward to meet his. 

His movements started to become erratic and less even, his hands coming down from the bedposts to grip her hips. 

Hermione pressed herself into the contact, realising how long it had been since someone had last touched her properly. 

Quickly, heat began to pool at her core. 

Suddenly just as he came, she could feel her body clenching and tightening around him. Her mind lit up with white hot pleasure that drove everything else from her mind. 

He let out a tortured groan and stilled inside her. 

They both caught their breath for a moment, Hermione letting her head roll back onto the bed. 

But, while the inhibitor's burning began to fade, reality came crashing down. She looked up at him in horror, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. 

His expression suddenly shifted as well, he looked pale and drawn. 

Not wanting to wait for him to yell at her or kick her out, Hermione quickly yanked her dress back into place and shakily propped herself up on her elbows. 

He stared at her in equal horror for another second before striding into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. 

Thanks to Tarren, Hermione could no longer pretend that her relationship with Malfoy was purely clinical.

She had opened a door that could not be closed anymore. 

 


	11. A light and a flame

By the time Hermione had made it back to her room, she was shaking. Sharp pangs ran from the inhibitor down her arms, chilling her bones and causing a sinking feeling in her stomach. 

The usual horrible feeling between her legs was now accompanied by a new burning shame that encompassed her entire mind. 

She kept reminding herself that it was just a physical reaction - just the inhibitor - nothing else. 

But she couldn't help but worry that her mind was giving in, that the endless mental torture was finally chipping away at any sanity that she had left. The thought kept clouding her movements, making everything seem surreal and dreamlike.

She pulled the covers tighter around herself like armour, feeling the weight of the thick blanket and focusing on the individual threads instead. For a brief, shining moment, Hermione could believe that she was at home, up late at night and safe from all the dangers in the world.

The moment passed, a pang from the inhibitor cutting through her fantasy and sharply bringing her back to reality. 

Nothing would ever be the same. Even if at some far off chance that the Order was revived and Voldemort was defeated, everything would still be different. She would still have been forced to be with Malfoy. Countless poor girls would still have been forced to carry children they didn't want. Thousands would still be dead. 

Ron would still be dead. 

A sob rose up in her throat, too quickly for her to stop. 

She couldn't remember how he died. 

She could barely remember how many of the Order were left. 

How was there any chance of escaping if she couldn't even trust her own mind to remember things correctly? 

Snape was coming in a few days to pick apart the remains of her mind, sending her back into excruciating pain that was all too familiar now. What could she be protecting in her mind that was so important? It would probably be revealed soon, Hermione thought bitterly. She had to admit, she was very curious as to what her 'contingency plan' was. How it all would fall into place if there was a plan at all. 

Whenever she couldn't sleep, she'd like to imagine what it would be like if she was never captured. Maybe she wouldn't even be alive right now, it didn't seem like any old Order members were anyway. 

But she knew that if the Order was still alive, no matter how small, someone would be fighting. 

Hermione exhaled sharply and shifted so that her back wasn't so awkwardly pressed against the headboards. The little moonlight that filtered into the room highlighted the sharp angles of the sparse furniture. 

No matter how hard she kept willing her mind to turn away from the previous events, they kept dwindling back. They were seared into her mind. Not like how the previous months were, not painful and clinical, but intimate. Close. Warm. 

The weight of his body kept coming back to her. The first time someone had touched her like that in so long. Even without the inhibitor, her mind reacted had wanted someone to hold her. 

She hadn't realised how long she had gone without human contact until Malfoy had touched her like that. 

Of course, they had 'copulated' before. But it was nothing like that. 

She huffed angrily and wiped a tear from her eye, practically hitting herself in the face with the force. The stinging pain in her eye was sharp, but she was grateful for the interruption in her thoughts. 

It was probably better if she just stopped thinking about it. 

Just three more days. 

Forcing herself with utmost energy, Hermione pulled herself from a sitting position and curled up in the bed, shutting her eyes and wishing for sleep to push all her unpleasant thoughts away. 

\-----

The next day, Hermione felt a lot better than the day before. Now that she knew what to expect every night, she could mentally prepare herself and not be so caught off guard like last time. 

It was barely an improvement, but it improved Hermione's mood incrementally. 

When she had forced down that morning's breakfast and new lot of potions, she set out into the garden. It was an unusually cold day, the sun was smothered by a grey sky, making it look like a dim light shining through a thick sheet. If it wasn't for the thick coat she was given, the wind surely would have been cutting right through into her skin. Nevertheless, her cheeks became bright red and wind chafed only from a few minutes outside. 

Hermione looked down at Wiply. She was visibly shivering and her ears were flattened against her head. 

"Wiply, why don't you use a warming charm or something? You must be freezing!" said Hermione. She knew that none of the house elves would ever be given anything more than the neat tea towels stamped with the house insignia, but surely the house elves had their own magic that would help them out during the winter. 

"Granger is not to worry about Wiply!" 

"Yeah, but you look terribly cold -" 

There was a resounding crash from inside the manor. They both whipped their heads back to face the source of the noise. She could hear shouting and more sounds of items breaking. 

There was a small crack from beside them and another house elf popped into view. 

"Master Lucius has been drinking again!" 

Hermione looked down at the other house elf. It looked terrified, shaking slightly as it spoke to Wiply, averting its eyes from Hermione. 

"Master Malfoy will not be back until later this afternoon- Wiply is told not to have Granger be close to Lucius-" 

There was another hysterical shout from inside the manor and both house elves flinched immediately at the noise. 

Wiply seemed to be struggling with herself for a few moments, large eyes flicking back and forth between the manor and Hermione. She pointed a tiny hand at Hermione, lips pursed tightly as she spoke. 

"Miss Granger - Wiply will tend to Master Lucius, Granger is to be staying here!" without another word, she dissaparated. 

The other house elf dithered on the spot a moment more, reluctant to go back to the apparently raging Lucius and deal with the mess, but finally followed after Wiply. 

Hermione stood stock still against the growing wind and half expected the inhibitor to burn. After it didn't, Hermione tentatively took a few steps forward. The inhibitor must only be limited to highly ranked Death Eaters. She supposed that was good, it wouldn't be nice if anyone one just came along and decided they could do whatever they wanted with her. 

The crashing noises were now accompanied by tiny, high pitched shouts that Hermione assumed was Wiply. She hoped that the little house elf was well equipped to handle that horrible Death Eater, and according to the now more subdued noises, it was apparent that she was. 

Hermione smiled to herself slightly, imagining Wiply completely disarming Lucius Malfoy. 

She kicked a small pebble with the toe of her boot, watching as it clattered off into the grass. Though she usually enjoyed being out of the manor, it was especially cold today. 

She tightened her hold on her coat and turned away from the manor to view the rest of the gardens. Tall birch trees lined the edge of the estate, seemingly endless, the trees looked oddly ghost like against the dark green of the field. 

Her eyes squinted against the whistling wind and stared into the forest. There was the faint memory of being with Harry and Ron in a similar forest, she could remember the sound of her feet hitting the forest floor, leaves crunching under her shoes. 

But she couldn't remember what they were doing in the forest. 

It was maddening. Even if she was simply bored, she couldn't even reminisce on anything. Why would she need to hide a trip to a forest with her friends from _herself_? 

Hermione sighed again, flipping the collar up of her coat to protect her neck from the increasingly adamant winds and settled her eyes on the horizon once more. 

The light was back again. 

It flickered and twisted. A blue tinge visible through the trees dotting the edge of the estate. 

She almost gasped, after last night, she had completely forgotten about the light. Hermione looked back uncertainly at the manor, muted noises could still be heard. 

Her head flicked back round to face the light. Thankfully, it remained fluttering in the midst of the tall trunks of the trees. 

Hermione stepped quickly, but cautiously into the woods, uncertain as to if Wiply would be able to detect her location. With the density of the trees growing, the light seemed far away even though she was positive that it could only be a few meters away. 

She couldn't see who was casting the light. 

"Hello?" her voice wavered out in the darkness like a single note. 

Her neck prickled unpleasantly. The urge to step back into the safety of the open gardens was beginning to appear like the nicer option, the increasingly tense atmosphere of the woods was eerily reminding Hermione of the forbidden forest. 

Every tiny movement jumped out at Hermione. She knew that it must be full with creatures and bugs hidden just out of sight, but she wished that they would just stay still for a moment so she could separate their movements from possible, sinister ones. 

The light appeared into view again from behind a tree. It moved further away, whatever the source was, it was moving soundlessly. Hermione took another step closer to it, her voice frozen in her throat. 

It wisped and twisted in the air, its pale light illuminating the air around it. 

Whoever had cast it here was nowhere nearby, Hermione knew that Malfoy would have definitely placed wards around his estate. 

She stepped closer to it again, wariness sinking like a stone in her stomach. 

Then, the shape became more discernible. 

A large, silver dog came into view. It's great big, shaggy head turned slowly to look at Hermione, it's pointed ears twitching slightly. It was more a wolf than anything else, but it's presence was felt strongly. 

It was the first patronus Hermione had seen in a long time. She felt a surge of strength come rushing back to her as if she was standing by a warm fire. The impulse to exit the forest, which had been strong just moments ago, had gone.  

She stood stuck for a few moments, staring incredulously at the bright animal as it pawed the ground below it. It didn't scare her at all, in fact, an inexplicable familiarity washed over Hermione. 

It's white eyes fixed themselves on Hermione's and stilled. 

Her breath hitched in her throat. 

It looked as if it was going to say something. 

A message? 

It's mouth opened slightly and it raised his head. 

"The O-"

Suddenly, its form wisped away like an extinguished flame. Nothing left but smoky residue hovering just where it had disappeared. It's burning image still imprinted itself into her eyelids, even when she shut them, it's glowing head and fierce eyes burned into her retinas. But now that the source of light and strength vanished, cold fear came rushing back. 

There was a loud crack, and Wiply popped right back in front of Hermione. 

"What is Miss Granger doing here?! Granger is told not to move! But Granger is in the forest! Oh no- Wiply will be in trouble, Master-" she stopped her rambling and gripped Hermione's wrist in fear, terror bulging in her eyes as she imagined how Malfoy would punish her. 

Choking down her words, she dragged Hermione back through the gardens and back into the manor. Once the door was shut, she turned on Hermione.

"You is to be staying in the manor until Master Malfoy is back! No more leaving!" she huffed angrily and then dissaparated. 

Her head was reeling with the pace of the events that had just taken place. Though she knew Wiply was just following orders, it was growing increasingly more infuriating that every time she was on the verge of something new, it would be interrupted.

Who was trying to send a message? Were they trying to say something about the Order? 

It seemed more and more possible that the Order was still alive. After all, apparently some form of the Resistance was still fighting back, and casting a fully corporeal patronus as a messenger was definitely something only a highly trained wizard would be able to do. No less, being able to cast one that was able to form past Malfoy's wards. 

Nothing but the shock of seeing a fully formed patronus could have given Hermione the strength to go through the second night. With the sun setting already, she knew it was only a matter of hours before Malfoy would return home and she would have to go through the whole ordeal again. 

She looked longingly back out of the window, hoping to see the blue light again, but knowing it would probably not appear anymore. Something about it was so familiar, she just couldn't place whos patronus it could have been. 

A wolf? 

The only person she knew who had a wolf patronus was Remus, but he was dead. 

Tonks, maybe? She remembered that at one point, her patronus had become a sort of large dog. 

Hermione pondered the origin of the light as she ate dinner and readied herself, showering and changing became a much more endurable task once she had set her mind on something else. 

Hypothetically, if she were to meet or find someone part of the Order, eventually, Snape would learn of it. And in turn, Voldemort. Unless, whatever plan Snape and Malfoy were plotting, extended to hiding even Hermione's memories from Voldemort. 

Until Hermione knew for certain who she could trust, it would be no use to find an escape or Resistance member, her mental examination was in a few days time. That included her memories as well, Hermione supposed, although she desperately wanted to put her mind back together, finding out vital information would be as good as handing Order members directly to Voldemort. 

Hermione placed her spoon down gently on the tray and pushed her food away. One more hour until Malfoy came back. 

She paused on that. It was known that Malfoy was a highly regarded Death Eater to Voldemort himself, his right hand. Whatever his job entailed meant that Voldemort had to have complete certainty in where his loyalties lay. Or else, why would Voldemort trust him to have Hermione in his personal care? 

That was what puzzled Hermione the most. 

How could Snape and Malfoy possibly deceive Voldemort? Maybe they were simply attempting to overthrow him to rise in the ranks and take his power for their own, but both Snape and Malfoy didn't seem like the type. Snape had even asked her if there was a plan when they first met again. 

If she could just learn what Snape and Malfoy were up to before the mental examination, she might be able to have the upper hand in facing Snape. 

"Miss Granger." 

Wiply apparated into her room, giving no warning like she usually did and stared intently at the floor. 

Giving a curt nod, Hermione followed Wiply out of the room and to Malfoy's quarters. 

This time when Hermione opened the door, she found that her hands were not shaking, her head felt clear with purpose. She just needed to hold out until the mental examination. 

Malfoy was already in the room when she stepped in, roughly shedding his gloves. 

She stared at them. Dragon hide. Stained with fresh blood. 

No doubt from rebels he had executed. 

Hermione swallowed uneasily and pressed herself surreptitiously against the wall.  

He payed no attention to her as he unfastened the top buttons of his coat, but with the inhibitor burning dully, she knew that he was beginning to feel the same way she was. 

It was definitely not the same level of intensity of last night, she could at least stand upright without her legs shaking. 

But the urge was still there, still annoyingly persistent. 

"Did Lucius harm you?" he asked, facing away from her as he poured himself a drink. 

Hermione felt slightly taken aback by the question, apparently Wiply hadn't told him that she was off wandering in the forest. 

"er- n-no. I was in the- gardens." she stuttered out, pulling lightly on the hem of her sleeves to relieve some of the heat. 

He turned to face her, leaning back as he tipped the glass up to his mouth. 

Hermione said nothing and continued to hold his gaze. Resolved on seeing more than just the usual cold mask he put on. If she could just see his motivations, she would be able to know where his weaknesses lay. 

He continued to languidly drink his whiskey, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. His steel eyes darkened as he scanned her body, making Hermione feel both extremely uncomfortable but unwillingly aroused. 

If she could rip out the inhibitor with her bare hands she would right then and there. 

She ground her teeth and forced out a question to stall.

"What do you do when you leave the country?" 

He smiled. 

"I'm sure you know already." 

"Hunting down resistance members." 

His smile widened but did not reach his eyes. 

"Precisely." 

Hermione wrinkled her nose and tried to hold his gaze, but a sudden wave of arousal passed through her. She closed her eyes briefly and took a shuddering breath, hoping that Malfoy wasn't paying attention enough to notice. 

He let out a light laugh and set the glass down, his smile quickly vanished. 

"Apparently it's time." 

He strode towards her, causing her to stumble into the bookshelves with a loud clatter. 

"W-wait-" 

"Get on the bed." 

" _No._ " 

He paused and his lip twitched. 

There was something in his eyes that Hermione could not discern. 

"I can wait. The inhibitor will not stop until it is done. Do you want to end up begging for it?" he sneered. 

Hermione flushed deeply. She knew what he was saying was true, but did not want to give him the satisfaction. 

He took another step towards the bookshelf so that he was now towering well above her. 

"I assure you, I do not like this any more than you do." he said.

His voice dropped to a low growl, his face mere inches from her own. She could practically feel the timbre in his voice shaking her. 

Her knees buckled slightly, but she pressed harder against the bookshelf, steadying herself. The inhibitor was now searing into her arm, sending waves of need through her entire body. Without the sharp edge of the bookshelf pressing into her lower back, Hermione didn't know if she would be able to stand straight for as long as she was. 

"Unless... you are actually beginning to want to." he cruelly teased. His eyes were narrowed haughtily. 

"You know it is just the inhibitor is doing this - y -you were there when Tarren came." she breathed. 

"Just?" 

He placed a hand on the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her pulse point. To her surprise, she didn't flinch away, instead found herself instinctively leaning into his touch, eyelids drooping slightly. 

She could smell the alcohol on his breath, mingled with the tang of blood that stained the collar of his shirt. 

Her mind was becoming hazy, the inhibitor's burning melding with the heat encompassing her entire body - 

Snap out of it. 

She jerked out of his reach, staggering weakly away. She felt faint with anger and exasperation, looking at his face was enough to send her thoughts into confusion. 

Just weeks ago she would sob and cry after their sessions, now... 

It was just cruel. 

And completely unnecessary. 

Surprisingly, Malfoy looked somewhat satisfied in a cold way. The indifferent mask clicked back into place and he strode into the bedroom. 

This time, the inhibitor burned painfully, dragging her after him and basically forcing herself to tumble onto the bed. 

moments after Hermione had settled herself onto the edge of the bed, legs apart, she could hear Malfoy unbuckling his belt and positioning himself. 

The familiar feeling of him lifting her skirts to the side was accompanied by a rush of arousal to her core. He hesitated momentarily, but then pushed into her. 

This time, it was easier to somewhat limit the number of times she canted her hips forward. The sounds escaping her lips were muffled again by the palm of her hand pressing intently onto her face. 

Without even realising it, her legs had come up from hanging limp off the bed to propped up and grazing the sides of his hips. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, the timing of his thrusts increasing as they both neared completion. 

Suddenly, she felt one of his hands come up to grip her thigh, pressing it against his hip as he ground into her. He was clenching his jaw intensely, but his breathing came out ragged and shallow. 

Seconds later, Hermione felt herself beginning to seize and clench around him, her quite moans graced the air as her hands came down to clench the bedsheets. 

Then, a low tortured groan was ripped out of him as he stilled inside her.

But the moment didn't last long, he pulled himself away and drew his wand out to mutter cleansing charms while re buckling his belt. 

Malfoy looked tense and drawn again, distaste clear on his face. For some reason, once the inhibitor's 'symptoms' had worn off, irritation began seeping into her blood again. 

Before he could turn away into the bathroom, she blurted out a question. 

"Why did you volunteer to have me? You could have anyone if you needed an heir. You hate me, Malfoy. Are you really that much of a loyal follower that you sacrifice your hatred of Mudbloods?" 

He peered curiously down at Hermione as she stood up from the bed. 

"What, are you expecting me to suddenly tell you my reasoning just because I fucked you?" 

She flinched. 

"You continue to underestimate your importance. Your memories are a cause for concern, and I am certain that behind those barriers holds information that is highly crucial to the outcome of the current conflicts..." he continued dismissively, "In fact, Severus is only coming in a few days time, and I have nothing currently to do. Why don't we see what other delusions your mind holds." 

Before Hermione could even blink, Malfoy had strode across the room and jabbed his wand under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. 

Instantly, excruciating pain exploded in her head as he dove into her memories. 

He poured over every detail, every thought and scheme and moment in the past months. Her thoughts on Tarren, the plans of Snape and Malfoy, the light in the forest, each were looked over with extreme care and caution. 

But, he skirted around the memory of Rudolphus, apparently he did not wish to make her revisit that awful night. 

He inspected her interaction with the patronus with intense scrutiny, going over the moment it appeared the night before, to when it vanished. However, unlike how Hermione grew puzzled, he seemed to grow more serious (if that was possible) with understanding. 

When he pulled out, she had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like hours, but she knew it could not have been more than a few minutes. 

For the first time Hermione had ever seen him, he looked genuinely irritated. Hermione supposed through the painful throbbing of her head that he didn't particularly like her thoughts on him. 

"You don't remember how Weasley died?" asked Malfoy. His voice became unnaturally even, suddenly, Hermione understood why Tarren had become so terrified. 

Her voice was stuck in her throat and she shook her head. 

He said nothing and looked away from her. It made her wonder if he had killed Ron. 

His fist clenched around his wand as he stepped towards the bar. There was another sharp pang of cold that ran from her inhibitor, sending chills down her spine while she stood uncertainly by the bed. 

 

Then, when he turned back to Hermione, she could clearly see his face. 

For the first time, he looked completely open. 

His eyes were deeply unsettled. His face tense. 

Something about his face was inexplicably familiar. 

The fear that was just laying under the surface of her skin was now mingled with something deeper. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, as if they were holding an unspoken conversation. 

But then it was broken once more as he turned back towards the bar with an air of finality. 

Understanding that it was her time to leave, Hermione warily stepped away and left the room. 

Her knowledge of Malfoy, though he was the only person she saw the most of, was now more mingled and confused than ever before. 

 

 

 


	12. Requiem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update, working on streamlining the plot! Please give feedback, all comments are welcome <3

There was an aching and sore feeling at the base of her head that lingered after the previous night. 

It felt raw, like Malfoy had peeled back her defences more than they had already been stripped, and laid them bare. 

Hermione swept her hair from her face so that her neck wasn't exposed. 

Other than Wiply taking extra precautions so that she didn't leave her sight, she could feel new wards placed around the house. They were noticeably strong closer to where Lucius's quarters wards were, every time Hermione even stepped near that wing, she could see the air warp and twist where the magic was triggered. 

She felt as if she should have been comforted by the fact that Lucius couldn't reach her, but the shear intensity of the wards shocked Hermione. The complexity of the magic was beyond the books Hermione had studied, they were distinctively original.

Malfoy's signature. 

Anyone would be able to tell that Malfoy had procured the wards. When she neared them, it felt like shards of ice beginning to settle themselves into her skin, pricking the surface even though there was nothing physically there. 

It was objectively, amazing work. Hermione wanted so badly to ask Malfoy the specific strain of defence magic it was, in the unknown years her memory had been wiped, she had no idea how much new magic had been developed. 

The only books in the house that she had knowledge of, was in the manor's expansive library and Malfoy's personal collection. Expectedly, she couldn't even read them, let alone touch them, wards were placed around those as well, per instructions of the New Order. 

But, Hermione had taken note that Malfoy's personal library didn't have those same wards. Whenever she entered his quarters, it was surprisingly clean of dark magic unlike the rest of the estate. 

She had expected his personal quarters to be the most heavy with dark magic, for it to be hanging densely in the air. After all, he probably spent the most time in his quarters out of the entire manor, he apparated straight into it right after he executed or killed anyone. 

So, logically, Hermione thought she would have to prepare herself when she first entered his room. 

She ran over that detail in her mind multiple times before she came to any sort of theory. 

Maybe Malfoy just didn't like the dark magic to be permeating into the place he slept, and placed extra care in placing protective wards around his quarters. 

But that behaviour was shocking for a death eater, especially one of such high ranking like Malfoy. 

His daily activities required him to be constantly using dark magic, he would be so infected with it, he would eventually become impervious like Voldemort. That would explain his calm whenever he entered Voldemort's hall. 

But she would definitely be able to feel if he was impervious to it like with Voldemort. Not even a highly skilled wizard of Voldemort's standard could mask that level of exposure to dark magic, not like he even would care to. 

Hermione frowned as she kicked a pebble off the garden veranda. 

The only conclusion that she could come to was that he was performing extensive cleansing charms on himself every night. 

It was long, tedious magic, taking extremely deft wand strokes and still hands to execute. 

She only performed cleansing magic on a few occasions during the war. 

The first time was when they had saved members of the Order from one of Voldemort's holdings. It was early in the war, when the Resistance was still evenly matched with Voldemort's forces. 

Voldemort had held them captive for over 3 months, interrogating them every day with excruciating dark magic. By the time they had been able to locate them, the dark magic had seeped itself into their bones and very existence. 

She remembered trying desperately for weeks to cleanse them. But with the limited information the Order had access to, she couldn't find any texts that specified the method. 

It was heartbreaking. 

They were never the same. 

Although they improved slightly, she could still see the hollow, coldness in their eyes. 

After that, she blamed herself everyday. Pushing herself further to always do whatever was needed to get things done, even if that meant sacrificing herself or her own morals. 

Hermione drew her eyes from the discarded pebble and looked over at the horizon. She scanned the trees, hoping to see the comforting presence of the patronus. 

The tree line remained dark and still. 

She sighed and turned back into the cover of the manor, the wind was starting to increase and it didn't seem worth it to stand out in the cold. 

Once she stepped over the threshold, Wiply apparated away from her side. 

Luckily, Wiply only stayed strictly by her side when she was out of the manor, otherwise, Wiply only came back if Hermione called her or did anything that she thought was unusual. 

Hopeful to enjoy the brief amount of time to herself before Malfoy returned, Hermione set out to explore every part of the manor and memorise it's layout. 

If she couldn't access any of the library's books, maybe she could at least get a sense of where she was being kept. 

As she walked through the manor, she ran her hand along the length of the wall, feeling where the wards began and ended in the different rooms, noting the specific rooms that had more protection. 

Most of the rooms with specific protection were not as strong as the wing where Lucius stayed, it was probably just wards that kept people out. 

Finally, after an hour or more, Hermione found herself in the last part of the manor she could explore. 

Malfoy's wing. 

There was always a sinking feeling that grew whenever she walked towards his quarters. But now, in the daylight, the walk down the long hall looked completely different. 

It was lit brightly, light streaming in from the windows. 

Growing increasingly more irritated by the locked doors all along the hall, Hermione kept pacing down until she got to the end of it. 

Malfoy's room. 

The door wasn't locked. 

Hermione felt her stomach lurch, she could see the antechamber inside and a sealed envelope placed neatly on the desk. 

It felt like a trick. Why would Malfoy leave his door unlocked? He definitely wasn't the careless sort. 

What if it was intentional? 

Hermione decided to push the thoughts away and let a sudden bout of recklessness guide her actions. He wasn't allowed to hurt her anyway. 

Pressing lightly against the door and stepping fully into the antechamber, she could feel the difference in atmosphere. 

It was refreshing, like stepping into a forest of pine trees. Usually, she never noticed the difference in magic when she came here, she never had the chance to since her mind was so distracted by the nightly tasks. 

Maybe now she could understand why Malfoy's chambers were cleansed of dark magic. 

Hermione went straight for the desk, hoping that there weren't wards against her there as well. 

Protective magic like the ones the New Order used against the Odalisques was very complicated. From experience, it was based on how the Odalisque's themselves interpreted the rules, making it so that their own mind was limiting what they could do. 

It was like a vicious cycle. 

But that made it difficult to ward certain items. Odalisques were allowed to read newspapers, signs, letters and simple things like that. But other, more educational pieces of information, like books were more restricted. 

That made things more tricky because whether a book was too 'educational' or not was pretty subjective, that was more up to the Odalisque _and_ the owner. 

Which was why Hermione was surprised to find that she could touch the books in Malfoy's private collection. 

It was exhilarating. 

The feeling of rough hardback covers, finely grained paper and the smell of old parchment felt like coming home. 

After who knows how long, the familiar feeling of paper under her fingertips was a complete welcome. She carefully slid a book out of the shelf and weighed it delicately in her hands. 

 _Secrets of the Darkest Art_  

The name struck something in her mind. Something oddly familiar. 

Hermione glanced sideways at the small clock on the wall. Malfoy would be home soon. 

Hastily, she stuffed the book back on the shelf and started towards the door. 

In the corner of her eye, the emerald green stamp on an envelope suddenly drew her eye. It was the envelope Tarren had given Malfoy the other day. 

Curiosity began to fight its way to the surface of Hermione's mind. Doubt beginning to lose her inner battle, Hermione backtracked and delicately picked it up off the desk. 

Flipping open the seal with her nail, she quickly slipped the parchment out of the envelope. 

_Draco,_

_With the developments in the Resistance, the Dark Lord grows impatient. Our position will become noticed in the coming months when Granger does not become pregnant. Remain diligent for signs of progress with the memories. Maintain your position, do not attempt contact in any circumstance. I will be establishing the back up when a do the mental examination._

_Follow the exact schedule allocated by the Dark Lord. Do not show any signs of hesitation, even if that entails that you do the worst. Do as told._

_Severus._

She read over Snape's spiky handwriting over and over again. Did this confirm that Malfoy and Snape were not fully in allegiance with Voldemort?

Hermione glanced over at the other thick set of parchment attached to the first paper, it was filled with detailed schedules on the timing and location of raids and executions. 

Her heart dropped. 

The names of Resistance members jumped out at her, entailing their times of execution and rank in the Resistance. 

Hermione could feel her heartbeat quickening, so many Order members were still alive. 

But not for long. 

Names were crossed out, ticked off as if they were just chores and meaningless tasks to be carried out. 

She had to do something. 

Suddenly, the door clicked shut as Malfoy stalked into the room. 

" _What are you doing?_ " he hissed. His voice dripped in malice as he eyed her briskly placing the envelope back onto the desk. 

"I - You can't keep putting me in the dark- I know there's more to what you say you are-" her voice faltered. 

He tugged off the bloody gloves and saw her face as she stared at the bloodstains. 

"Do you think just because The Dark Lord needs your memories, you can't be hurt?" his sneered. He looked somewhat shaken, there was more blood on his gloves than the previous night and his usually meticulously done shirt was unbuttoned and disheveled. 

He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching towards his wand. 

"You wouldn't." she declared. Adrenaline was pumping through her. She felt like she could say anything. 

He let out a sharp laugh. 

"I don't mean physical pain." He whirled his wand out before she could even react, his hand tipping back her head forcefully. 

"Let's see how much snooping you've been doing." 

She was blinded by the pain. He forced his way carelessly through her mind, taking extra care in making it painful. 

The memory of the patronus was wrenched out, the blue light swam in her eyes. He faltered slightly at this, but continued through. The image of Rodolphus warped in her vision as he forced her to go through her recent pain. 

The memory of the first night the inhibitor was updated began to form, the helpless arousal that took over her mind...

 _No, not that_  -

Her insides burned as her magic began to futilely struggle against the inhibitors. Her hands began to grow warm. 

She felt herself blindly fumbling against his hold, hands catching on his wrist until she felt his watch. 

Something suddenly clicked. Fury causing her to remember how he touched the watch every time he ordered her to do something. 

Malfoy seemed to realise where her thoughts were leading to and attempted to stop her. 

But it was too late, her hand grabbed his wrist and the roles were suddenly reversed. 

She was delving into his mind. Images flashing in her vision as she caught him by surprise. 

It was after the first night they were forced to be together, he was clutching the sink basin as he threw up into it... Snape's face swam into view, he was angrily shouting at Malfoy before the auction... 

She could see Ron. His face streaming with blood just as bright as his hair. He looked up at Malfoy with a pleading expression in his eyes, his hands were pinned behind his back as another Death Eater held him down. 

Hermione vaguely felt Malfoy wrenching her hand away from his wrist. She felt tears spill from her eyes as she saw Ron fall with a flash of light. 

Abruptly, Malfoy and the antechamber came back into view. She fell back against the desk, ink bottles and quills clattering to the floor. 

Cold fury appeared in his expression. His eyes turned black, lips curling in rage. 

She felt regret instantly, but was still shaken by seeing Ron's death. 

 _Malfoy killed him?_  

She felt petrified with fear. The coldness that she felt when she entered his mind was staggering. 

"I'm impressed. You figured out the connection to the inhibitor quickly." his voice was devoid of emotion. But his eyes were black with fury. 

"You're a _monster._ " breathed Hermione. "How could you do that? You don't care about anyone, at all-" 

"I did what was necessary to aid the War efforts." he said coldy.

Hermione fumed. How could he be so unfeeling? It was like lives meant nothing to him, even if they were from the opposing side. 

Her voice shook with emotion. "Though you were a brat in Hogwarts, I believed you had a tiny shred of human decency. That maybe you weren't like what everyone thought you were. But obviously, _I was wrong._  you're cold and heartless, just like-" 

He stiffened. 

His eyes widened slightly at her words. Had she found a way to get to him? 

"Get out!" he snapped. 

Hermione stood unmoving in front of him. Torn between turning and running out the door, and continuing to yell at him. 

What about tonight? Did she have to come back? 

The inhibitor was already beginning to heat up. 

"W-What about the sched-" 

"GET OUT!" 

Wandlessly, he wrenched the door open, causing it to slam violently against the wall. 

Knowing she would definitely be pushing it, she bolted for the door and did not look back as the inhibitor continued to burn. 

Hermione berated herself as she shut the door of her room, feeling tears prick her eyes as waves of emotion ran through her. 

She needed to be more careful. 

She couldn't let her emotions get the better of her. 

Sitting heavily on the bed, she ran over the information as she attempted to calm down. Snape and Malfoy were definitely up to something. The letter confirmed it completely. 

When Malfoy was investigating her memories, he seemed shocked but also weary when he saw the patronus. Had he recognised it? 

The inhibitor started to heat up slowly, spreading from her arm to the rest of her body. 

Hermione sighed despairingly to herself, she had one more night. But since Malfoy had thrown her out, she couldn't follow the orders given my the inhibitor. 

Wincing as pain started to accompany the heat, Hermione pressed her hand against her arm. 

The last thing she wanted to do was succumb to the inhibitor. 

But it was becoming increasingly difficult. Familiar, dull waves of heat swept her body, raising goosebumps on her skin. 

Hoping that sleep would help the feeling pass, she dragged herself under the covers and shut her eyes. 

The next few hours were excruciatingly painful in a different way. 

Waves of pain mingled with arousal passed through her, causing flushes and sweat to form on her brow. 

She could feel her core heat up and conflicting thoughts raced through her head. 

On one side, the inhibitor compelled her to do anything to follow her orders and go back to Malfoy. But conversely, the idea of staggering back to Malfoy's room just to ask for him to fuck her was completely horrifying. 

She sobbed into her hands quietly. 

The situation was completely impossible. 

She knew that she needed to somehow get on Malfoy's good side so that she could acquire more information. 

But she quite possibly had just ruined that. 

Deciding bitterly what to do, Hermione drew herself from the bed and began to walk shakily down the hall. 

Knocking as quietly as possible on his door and inwardly hoping that he wouldn't answer, she waited in the dark. 

The sound of movement inside the room could be heard through the door. 

It swung open. 

Malfoy looked down at her with a slightly shocked expression. Strands of white-blonde hair hung in his face, his cheeks were flushed. 

"I didn't ask Wiply to send you." his voice was cold and unnaturally even. 

"I-I know- I just... The inhibitor... " she trailed off and looked down at his shoes. Like a nervous tick, she straightened out the front of her dress. 

His jaw clenched. 

The tension felt impossibly dense in the air, his expression was completely unreadable. Though she suspected he was just as affected because his usual mask of indifference was gone. 

She almost felt as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. 

It was like she had exposed her neck to a wolf.  

 

 

 

 


	13. Connection

She shifted lightly from side to side as she awaited an answer. 

Her cheeks were growing steadily darker and she had no idea how Malfoy was going to respond. 

The feeling of being left so vulnerable and in the dark was enough to want to shrink back from his burning gaze. She shifted her eyes up from his shoes to his face. The intensity of the inhibitor was becoming almost painful, both arousal and a familiar cold feeling seared through her body. 

What if she had gone too far before? Would he get rid of her? 

Hermione swallowed. The idea of being handed to some other, more sadistic Death Eater that wasn't interested in keeping things clinical was horrifying. It would mean that all the information that she had been acquiring would be lost, she would have to start again. Although Malfoy was cruel and remorseless, he was her best hope of surviving. 

"Malfoy- I didn't mean to say... I'm s-sorry." she began desperately. Her words tasted bitter in her mouth. 

His eyes were obscured by the shadows cast across his face, a tiny glint of light shone off his pale eyes. 

She could see vulnerability in his eyes as well. 

At least, that was what she thought before his brow furrowed again and he hissed lightly. 

There was another moment of tense silence before Malfoy stepped to the side for her to enter. 

He didn't look at her as she passed under her nose. He seemed adamant in making sure they didn't make eye contact, his head was upturned slightly as if he had gotten a whiff of some rotten eggs. 

By this point, the heat had now encompassed her entire body. Her head felt dizzy and she shook as she stepped uncertainly off to the side of Malfoy. 

Through her clouded thoughts, Hermione noticed how he appeared more uncomfortable with the thought of being intimate with her than anything else. The contact between them remained minimal every month, only touching where they were joined. It was clear through the way he addressed her that he was adamant about drawing a line between the facade they put up for the public and their true relations.

But now, looking at him, he seemed extremely restrained. His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white and his eyes were pointed stubbornly ahead. 

It was probably because of the connection from the inhibitor, Hermione thought. 

Maybe if she could blur that line even further, she could find a way to discover his position in the War. Maybe that was his weakness. 

Another roll of arousal swept through her and she shuddered. 

Malfoy flicked his eyes downward quickly, catching the movement. 

She felt like she could die from mortification. The inhibitor felt ten times stronger than the first night, dark urges and thoughts shooting through her mind as she looked at Malfoy. 

Finally, he jerked his head stiffly towards the bed. 

Malfoy strode over to it, obviously wanting to get the last night over with. 

Trying her best not to appear eager, Hermione stepped over to the bed and lay back on it in her usual position. The heat on her skin was pooling at her core, she could feel herself growing wet. 

She exhaled sharply and tilted her head to the side. The texture of the sheets under her fisted hands was barely enough to distract from the mounting tension. 

Every nerve seemed to tingle in anticipation, her muscles felt tense and her stomach was coiled tightly in a knot of want. 

He pulled her dress to the side. His hands lingered on her skin. 

She let out a low gasp, legs jumping slightly. 

Hermione knew that he was struggling in keeping things clinical. It was the consequences of the new method proposed by Tarren. But it was becoming more clear that those lines could be blurred. 

She could see a way in. 

The sound of his belt buckle cut through the tense silence. 

She kept telling herself that it was just the inhibitor. But she felt hollow and empty. The need to be touched was distractingly steady in her core... 

No. No. 

Hermione drew a steadying breath, hoping that the cool air would bring some clarity back to her mind, but it only seemed to worsen the heat. 

A small sob escaped her lips. 

Malfoy froze, his hand withdrew from her thigh. 

It took almost all her energy not to bring his hand back herself. The burn of arousal was blindingly intense, it was shocking how strong the feeling was. 

After a few moments, she could feel him prod at her entrance. If it wasn't for her own determination to remain somewhat dignified, she would have canted her hips forward herself. 

He slowly slid inside her. Without thinking, her legs drew up around his hips, just grazing his torso. She felt him freeze again at her touch but continued on. 

It was agonising in a different kind of way this time. Physically, all she wanted to do was feel his lips against hers, the weight of his body. But mentally, she wanted to jump away from him.  

I'm enjoying my own rape, she thought bitterly. 

Her train of thought was cut short as he started to move inside her and she let out a sharp gasp. The burn of arousal was mind numbing. She could feel logic and reason begin to fade from her mind, the inhibitor continuing to send waves of arousal through her body. 

It felt like her mind was slipping from her hold to reality, warmth seemed to envelope her thoughts. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy's hair loose around his face. His eyes looked unfocused and distant. She could hear his breathing increase as she tilted her hips slightly. 

She could barely remember why she was holding back anymore. 

Suddenly, the distance between them felt too great. A increasingly loud voice in her head kept screaming at her to touch him, to close that gap. Just as she thought that, the inhibitor's strength abruptly intensified. 

Malfoy shifted his hands from the bedpost and down to her hips. 

Whimpers that were previously held back began to form in her throat and grace the silence. Where she once tried to limit any sign of reaction, she now felt herself move along with his thrusts. 

 _Stop it. Just hold out till he finishes._  

Hermione desperately tried to bring her mind elsewhere, but it felt too far gone. 

Instinctively, her hands drew his closer to her waist. Half surprised, half dazed, Malfoy didn't jerk his hands away. 

With one hand, he gripped her side, the other wandered closer to her chest. 

She leaned into his touch, feeling his breath on her neck as he leaned towards her. 

The reminder in her head to stay focused started to become distant and was pushed to the back of her mind as other matters took the fore front. 

His movement was starting to become more erratic as he neared climax. His hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head up so that her neck was exposed. A moan was ripped out from her as his lips grazed her neck. 

She placed a hand at the nape of his neck, spurring him on. At this point, they both seemed to be too overcome by arousal to be thinking clearly, their movements becoming rougher and more intense. 

It continued to build up until finally- 

Her entire body arched and seized under him. The feeling was blindingly white hot, her eyes fluttered closed as he thrust into her a few more times and came with a suppressed groan. 

For a few moments, they both caught their breath and lay still. 

But then the heat from the inhibitor started to fade, reality bleeding into her like cold water down her back. 

He jerked away from her, seemingly also shocked at the actions that had just occurred. 

Hermione stared back at him in equal shock, tears burning behind her eyes as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. His face paled, becoming almost as equally white as his hair. 

The moment broke, he turned on his heel and apparated out of the room with a resounding crack. 

Immediately as he left, Hermione broke with a loud sob, tears finally spilling over her eyes as she slid off the bed and went back to her room. 

\-----

The next day, Hermione woke sometime in the afternoon. Her eyes were puffy with tears, head aching from lack of sleep. 

Thankfully, her fertile days were over. 

But it was hardly anything to look forward to, Snape would be conducting the mental examination - something Hermione didn't really think was better than being by Malfoy. 

She felt absolutely drained, being mentally and physically raped every week was enough to send anyone into a bout of depression. 

Sighing, Hermione dragged herself from the bed and set her mind to completing at least one task. Even just walking around the estate or having a shower felt more and more productive in recent days. 

Previously, she remembered being so busy during the War. 

Planning attacks, tending after the wounded, fighting, even her off days were filled with grieving and shouting matches with her fellow Order members. 

At least then, she had something to do. 

Hermione snorted to herself, her self three years ago couldn't imagine preferring arguing with someone, over having a walk in a garden. 

After standing motionless in the freezing cold shower and towelling her hair dry, Hermione quickly strode out of the manor.

She heard the familiar crack behind her and turned to greet Wiply. But she was met with the cold figure of Malfoy. He leant against the wall of the estate, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. 

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she recounted the previous night. 

The corners of his mouth twitched as he eyed her face. 

"Your mental examination is now. There has been a change of plans, Severus will not be coming here. We will be meeting him." stated Malfoy. He said it with such formality, Hermione was somewhat shocked that he was able to mask his emotions so well. 

It was expected anyway. 

Reluctantly, she backtracked and took Malfoy's arm. She almost flinched at touching him, her mind writhing in conflict. Hermione knew that because of the inhibitor's new updates, she would look at Malfoy in a new light, it was only biological. But after seeing Ron's life vanish from his eyes in Malfoy's memories, she felt her stomach twist and lurch uncomfortably. 

_How long do I have to live like this?_

The constant fear of being mentally or physically attacked was always on the forefront of her mind, being surrounded by cold and unfeeling people felt worse than being isolated completely. 

When she was isolated, at least she knew she could trust herself somewhat, but with Malfoy, her emotions were fighting a battle which lead to the unknown. Never in her life, had she ever felt so emotionally vulnerable. 

And now, she had to relive every tortuous moment, every moment of despair again with Snape. Someone she thought she could trust but had killed the strongest Wizard in existence. 

The feeling of being squeezed through a tube ended quickly and they landed hard on a grassy hill. 

She was taken aback by the cool breeze and the smell of grass. After being told that they were going to meet Snape, she half expected to be transported to some dark, humid dungeon. 

The wind swept through the shin high blades of grass, it looked like ripples in a lake. Off in the distance, she could see a tiny black figure appear out of thin air on the edge of the river. The figure set off with light quick strides, its billowing cloak sweeping over the grass. 

The striking silhouette of a batlike figure immediately notified them of Snape's presence. 

"You're late, Malfoy." 

Malfoy scoffed in response. 

If Snape rolled his eyes or reacted, Hermione didn't see. He had already turned around and pulled his wand out. 

She stared curiously at him. He was moving his hand through the air as if he was searching for something. 

Perhaps a concealment charm? It looked like the same way the Order had hidden many safe houses.

Finally, it seemed as if Snape had found what he was looking for. The tense expression on his face eased a little as he waved his wand around the spot his hand had found. 

It appeared to be a concealment charm like Hermione thought. He pulled it back like a curtain, the air becoming warped and revealing a small house. 

The charm felt distinctly familiar. She couldn't remember having to do a concealment charm herself, but somehow it stirred something deep within her mind. 

Not stopping, Snape strode through the gap in the wards and into the house. 

Hermione assumed that his was Snape's house, it was dark and simply decorated. There were no photos on the mantles or bookshelves, an air of neglect hung about the room, as though it was not usually inhabited. Hermione took in the room quickly, there was not much there in the first place. 

Snape turned round to address Hermione, gesturing to a chair. Malfoy took this as his dismissal and left the room. 

His black eyes followed Malfoy until he was no longer seen and then turned on the figure in front of him. 

"We will begin the legilimens session." he said, settling himself into the armchair opposite her. 

Her mind shot back to the letter she read. Would he be 'establishing a back up'? 

Hermione wondered if he knew she read the letter, but he would know soon enough. 

Initially, it was painless. He seamlessly dove into her mind, looking through old memories of Hogwarts, searching for gaps. He was very methodical, clearly he knew what he was searching for. 

But once he couldn't find it in her early memories, he began to inspect the mental barriers. It felt like there was a needle being driven into her skull. To her surprise, he didn't seem too interested in wrenching out the blocked memories, he instead glimpsed around the spaces, looking at the events before and after. 

Nevertheless, his mind probing into hers was beginning to take its toll. She faintly registered that her jaw was clenched rigidly through the pain. 

Snape sifted through her mind like a book, reliving the moments from when she was in her cell, to being trapped by Rodolphus. She almost expected him to force her to go through the mortifying ordeal from the previous nights, but he carefully skirted around those. 

It became apparent that he wasn't attempting to draw out secrets of the Order like Voldemort did. The way he was manoeuvring through her mind felt too intricate and purposeful. 

Though it wasn't nearly as painful as the other legilimency sessions she'd had with Voldemort, it felt drawn out for hours.

After a few more moments of doing the same movements, he withdrew from her mind. 

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes teary from the stinging coming from her skull. He looked deep in thought, almost troubled. 

Malfoy walked back into the room, obviously bored from waiting around for them to finish. Hermione noticed that he had managed to procure a glass of firewhiskey, Snape obviously noting this as well as his eyes flicked down from the glass up to Malfoy's face. 

Hermione wondered faintly if Malfoy perhaps had a dependency on alcohol. It would be both like him and unlike him. One one hand, facing Voldemort and all of the other activities daily would be enough for anyone to turn to alcohol, but it definitely didn't seem like his character to depend on anything for support. 

Maybe since he couldn't rely on any person, he preferred other comforts. 

It would explain his aversion to affection of any kind. He probably wasn't used to be with any woman that was purely used for sex. 

 

Snape shifted in his chair slightly. 

"Granger. Do you remember what happened before the first War?"

Hermione felt a twinge of annoyance. 

"Isn't that what the legilimency is for?" 

"Legilimency can only do so much... Some memories, cannot be drawn out with force." he drawled. 

He placed extra care on that detail. She supposed that he needed her to be willing in order to fully uncover the memories. 

"No. I don't remember." 

He gave a tiny nod and stood up for the door. 

"The Dark Lord wants to perform his own mental examination in two days time." 

Hermione stiffened. What would he do if he sees the memory of the patronus? or the letter? 

Both Malfoy and Snape were undeterred by this date. Was this what Snape meant by the back up? 

"I will send the dates regarding the raids." said Snape to Malfoy. There was a hint of remorse in his voice, almost as if he felt sorry for Malfoy. 

Hermione glanced sideways at him. He clenched his jaw, momentarily tense before nodding and bidding farewell. 

As they travelled back to the manor, Hermione noted how the mental examination comprised of a surprisingly lot less pain then she expected. Part of her hoped that it would remain that way with Voldemort, but she highly doubted it. 

Once they were back in the manor, Malfoy unceremoniously dropped her arm and stalked to his quarters without a second glance. 

With a growing headache, Hermione was relieved to finally be able to sleep. As soon as she hit the pillows, she practically was knocked out. Vision fading to black and mind switching off. 

 

_"There's no other way. If we don't establish a contact now, we could lose any chance of reviving the resistance in the future." snapped Hermione. It was sometime in the middle of the Wars, the numbers of deaths were just beginning to take a toll on the resistance._

_"Why do you say that like you think we won't win?" shot Ron._

_Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing huddled in the corner of the kitchen. Hermione was pretending to busy herself with gathering brewing supplies - she would much rather not be having the same conversation with Ron for what felt like the hundredth time._

_"I didn't mean that. I just think we need options."_

_"So you think **he's** a viable option? Are you hearing yourself? Harry, you can't possibly agree with this." _

_Harry huffed slightly, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of being involved in the conversation._

_"I have to agree with Hermione. Look, we all know what's at stake. You heard what Moody said, he trusts him."_

_"yeah but-"_

_Ginny walked noisily into the kitchen with Tonks, deep in conversation. They stopped once they saw the three of them arguing._

_"Oh sorry love, we'll go somewhere else." said Tonks quickly, recognising Ron's red face and Hermione frizzy hair as a sign of trouble. As they backtracked out of the room, the three of them watched until they were out of sight._

_"You know what? I don't think I can talk about this more." said Ron, stomping out of the room while muttering curses under his breath._

_Hermione let out a long sigh. Recently, they had been fighting more and more._

_"Sorry 'Mione. You know how he gets..." offered Harry weakly. She smiled lightly at Harry, she knew how much trouble he went through every time her and Ron got into any fights. It was just like Hogwarts, but with much higher stakes and less pettiness._

_"No... I get it. It's a difficult situation for everyone, but he could be a crucial turning point. You-know-who is becoming more and more strict every day and we need someone who is much closer to him."_

_Harry nodded and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. She could see how tired he was._

_"Harry- why don't you get some sleep? or take a break or something? I'll look after the reports." she said, squeezing his shoulder lightly while waving her wand at the countless scrolls on the kitchen counter top. He began to protest but Hermione quickly shut him down, smiling as she ushered him out of the room._

_Once she saw him trudge up the stairs and heard his bedroom door shut, Hermione flicked her wand towards her so that the parchment went flying across the room and onto the dining table._

_Sinking gratefully into the monotonous work of writing and a thankful distraction, Hermione spent hours at the table writing until people started to come back from missions in the early morning._

_It was the usual routine, every morning Hermione would often be working and she would be handed some new report from the field. It was usually about some new information on a raid or the death of another ministry worker._

_But it was different this time._

_There was the sound of struggling down the corridor. Curses and wails growing louder and louder as they made their way to the dining hall._

_Hermione stood up abruptly from her chair with a loud screech and hurried over to see the commotion. Bill, Kingsley, Fleur and some others were carrying a bloody body through the hall._

_"What- What happened?" said Hermione urgently, immediately sweeping the items off the table to clear space._

_"Hermione! - It's McGonagall, we don't know how they found out- they intercepted McGonagall as she was heading to the safe house, they somehow knew she where she was going and-" said Bill, his shirt was soaked in McGonagall's blood, his hands were visibly shaking._

_They set her down roughly on the table. Blood was pouring out of a deep laceration from her shoulder, her face was obscured by more blood seeping from wounds on her head._

_McGonagall was groaning faintly, she could barely hear her._

_"What was the curse?"_

_She quickly pushed up her sleeves, casting a diagnostic charm on McGonagall's body._

_Kingsley responded deftly, " We don't know. It rebounded and missed me, I think it was intended to skin it's victim."_

_Hermione grimaced but moved on, checking the diagnosis to summon the correct potions. She could hear Harry, Ron and the other Order members come down from their rooms, wands held aloft for danger. Kingsley had turned away from her to inform them of the situation and send others to secure certain locations of the Resistance._

_"Why didn't you bring her to the hospital ward?" The deep laceration continued to grow in size as Hermione stemmed the flow, bone was beginning to show on her right shoulder._

_"The interception was when we were going to the hospital ward. We assumed that they were following us somehow or had received the location of the ward. It was already compromised. "_

_Hermione felt her collected composure falter slightly. What about all of the injured in the hospital ward?_

_Bill seemed to read her expression._

_"The alert system worked, Poppy and the other managed to escape in time."_

_She sighed in relief, the blood was beginning to recede and the sinews of her shoulder were beginning to meld back together. A few more moments and the curse could have lost her entire arm._

_Hermione sat back heavily against the wall once she saw that McGonagall was stable. The others drew up a stretcher and carried her into the makeshift medical ward._

_They were cutting it too close._

_Voldemort appeared to have found a way to get information through their captives. If he had captured some higher ranking Resistance member, there was no doubt that they could all be dead by now._

_She needed to find a more foolproof way to secure their information._

 

 

Hermione snapped her eyes open. 

She was the one who had implemented the mental barriers. Not just for herself, but for all of the Resistance members. 

That's why Neville had similar looking mental barriers. 

But her memories were slowly being recovered- 

and Voldemort was going to see the memories in a day. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update weekly, probably on a Monday or Saturday!  
> Reviews are greatly appreciated!


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